T  I 


BY  7 HE  SAME  AU1HOR 

THE  DOCTOR  OF  PIMLICO 
THE  INTRIGUERS 
MADEMOISELLE  OF  MONTE  CARLO 


"Gabrielle,  my  poor  niece,"  he  cried.     "She's  dead — dead!" 


THE  STRETTON   STREET 
AFFAIR 


BY 

WILLIAM   LEQUEUX 

AUTHOR   OF    "THE   DOCTOR   OF   TIMLICO,"    "THE   INTRIGUERS," 
"MADEMOISELLE    OF    MONTE   CARLO " 


NEW  YORK 
THE  MACAULAY  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,   1922 
BY  WILLIAM  LE  QUEUX 


PRINTED   IN   THE   UNITED   STATES   OF   AMERICA 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

. 


CH.PTBB 

I  INTRODUCES  OSWALD  DE  GEX        .       .       20 

II  THE  SISTER'S  STORY  .....       37 

III  WHO  WAS  GABRIELLE  ENGLEDUE?        .       48 

IV  FACING  THE  Music  .....       59 
V  THE  CITY  OF  THE  LILY  ....       69 

VI  ANOTHER  PUZZLE      .....       80 

VII  THE  MILLIONAIRE'S  APPREHENSIONS     .       91 

VIII  LITTLE  MRS.  CULLERTON         .       .       .     102 

IX  SOME  PLAIN  SPEAKING    .       .       .       .113 

X  MONSIEUR  SUZOR  AGAIN         .       .       .     122 

XI  THE  ABSOLUTE  FACTS      ....     132 

XII  "  RED,  GREEN  AND    GOLD  !  "     .       .       .143 

XIII  SOME  INTERESTING  REVELATIONS  .       .153 

XIV  THE  GATE  OF  THE  SUN  ....     163 
XV  THE  INTRUDER   ......     172 

XVI  ANOTHER  STRANGE  DISCLOSURE      .       .182 

XVII  WHAT  THE  PROFESSOR  FOUND        .       .     192 

XVIII  MORE  ABOUT  THE  MYSTERY-MAN         .     202 

XIX  THE  TRACK  OF  DESPUJOL       .       .       .212 

XX  MADEMOISELLE  JACQUELOT       .       .       .     222 

XXI  AT  THE  HOTEL  LUXEMBOURG         .       .     232 

XXII  GABRIELLE  AT  HOME  243 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 

XXIII  THE  DEATH-DRUG    .. 

XXIV  YET  ANOTHER  MYSTERY  . 
XXV    WHAT  THE  VALET  KNEW 

XXVI    MORE  ABOUT  MATEO  SANZ 
XXVII    A  CURIOUS  STORY 
XXVIII    LOVE  THE  CONQUEROR 
XXIX    ANOTHER  PLOT  . 
CONCLUSION 


253 
263 
272 
284 
293 
299 
311 
316 


THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 


THE  STRETTON  STREET 
AFFAIR 


PROLOGUE 

IS  ABOUT  MYSELF 

THE  whole  circumstances  of  the  Stretton  Street  Affair 
were  so  complicated  and  so  amazing  from  start  to  finish 
that,  had  the  facts  been  related  to  me,  I  confess  I  should 
never  have  for  a  moment  given  them  credence. 

That  they  were  hard,  undeniable  facts,  presenting  a 
problem  both  startling  and  sensational,  the  reader  will 
quickly  learn  from  this  straightforward  narrative — an 
open  confession  of  what  actually  occurred. 

In  all  innocence,  and  certainly  without  any  desire  to 
achieve  that  ephemeral  notoriety  which  accrues  from  hav- 
ing one's  portrait  in  the  pictorial  press  and  being  besieged 
by  interviewers  in  search  of  a  "  story,"  I  found  myself, 
without  seeking  adventure,  one  of  the  chief  actors  in 
a  drama  which  was  perhaps  one  of  the  strangest  and 
most  astounding  of  this  our  twentieth  century. 

I  almost  hesitate  to  set  down  the  true  facts,  so  utterly 
amazing  are  they.  Indeed,  as  I  sit  in  the  silence  of 
this  old  brown  room  in  a  low-built  and  timbered  Surrey 
farmhouse,  with  pen  and  paper  before  me,  I  feel  that  it 
is  only  by  a  miracle  that  I  have  been  spared  to  narrate 

ii 


12          THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

one  of  the  most  complex  and  ingenious  plots  which  the 
human  mind,  with  malice  aforethought,  ever  conceived. 

I  ought,  I  suppose,  in  opening  to  tell  you  something 
concerning  myself.  Hugh  Garfield  is  my  name;  my  age 
twenty-nine,  and  I  am  the  son  of  the  late  Reverend  Fran- 
cis Garfield,  rector  of  Aldingbourne  and  minor  canon 
of  Chichester.  In  the  war  I  served  with  the  Royal  Air 
Force  and  obtained  my  pilot's  certificate.  I  went  to 
France  and  afterwards  to  Italy,  and  on  being  demobilized 
returned  to  my  work  as  an  electrical  engineer  in  the 
employ  of  Messrs.  Francis  and  Goldsmith,  the  well- 
known  firm  whose  palatial  offices  are  in  Great  George 
Street,  Westminster,  quite  close  to  the  Institute  of  Elec- 
trical Engineers. 

Though  I  had  obtained  my  Degree  in  Science  I  was 
at  the  time  employed  a  good  deal  upon  clerical  work. 
Five  years  of  war  had,  of  course,  been  something  of  a 
set-back  to  my  career,  but  in  our  reputable  firm  our  places 
had  been  kept  open  for  us — for  those  who  returned,  and 
we  were,  alas !  only  three  out  of  twenty-eight. 

Perhaps  it  was  that  having  done  my  duty  and  obtained 
my  captaincy  and  a  Military  Cross,  the  loyal,  old-fash- 
ioned firm  regarded  me  with  considerable  favour.  At 
any  rate,  it  set  its  face  against  anything  German,  even  in 
the  post-war  days  when  the  enemy  sent  its  Ambassador 
to  the  Court  of  St.  James,  and  we  weakheartedly  reopened 
trade  with  the  diabolical  Huns  and  allowed  them  to 
dump  in  their  cheap  and  nasty  goods  just  as  though  no 
war  had  happened. 

Messrs.  Francis  and  Goldsmith  was  a  private  firm, 
and  the  principals  were  both  fine,  patriotic  Britons. 
Though  electrical  appliances  were  coming  from  Germany 
wholesale,  and  being  put  in  to  the  market  at  prices  with 


PROLOGUE— IS  ABOUT  MYSELF  13 

which  British  firms  could  never  hope  to  compete,  yet 
they  stuck  to  their  old  resolution  when  in  1918  they  had 
joined  the  Anti-German  Union  of  "  No  German  Goods." 

Would  that  all  other  firms,  electrical  and  otherwise, 
had  done  likewise! 

Before  I  describe  the  amazing  adventures  which  befell 
me  I  suppose  I  ought  to  tell  you  the  exact  circumstances. 
I  had  an  excellent  business  appointment,  with  a  salary 
which  was  quite  adequate  for  my  modest  needs  as  a 
bachelor.  Further,  my  Aunt  Emily  had  died  and  left 
me  quite  a  comfortable  little  fortune  in  addition.  I 
shared  a  small  flat  in  Rivermead  Mansions,  just  over 
Hammersmith  Bridge,  with  another  bachelor,  a  young 
solicitor — a  dark-haired,  clean-shaven,  alert  fellow  named 
Henry  Hambledon,  who  had  created  quite  a  good  prac- 
tice, with  only  small  fees  of  course,  at  the  Hammersmith 
Police  Court  and  its  vicinity. 

I  first  met  Hambledon  at  the  front — years  ago  it  seems 
in  these  days  when  events  march  on  so  rapidly.  For 
nearly  a  year  we  were  brother-officers,  until  I  was  sent 
to  Italy.  We  met  again  after  the  Armistice  and  set  up 
housekeeping  together,  our  female  "  Kaiserin  "  being  a 
sharp-featured,  grey-haired  young  lady  of  about  fifty- 
five,  who  "  looked  after  us  "  very  well,  and  though  she 
possessed  many  idiosyncrasies,  did  not  rob  us  quite  so 
openly  as  do  most  housekeepers  of  the  London  bachelor's 
home. 

Harry  was  one  of  the  best  of  good  fellows.  He  had 
seen  a  lot  of  service  ever  since  he  had  responded  to  his 
country's  call  and  joined  up  as  a  private.  We  always  got 
on  excellently  together,  so  we  had  furnished  our  pleas- 
ant little  six-roomed,  second-floor  flat  quite  comfortably, 
and  as  Harry  had  looked  after  the  artistic  side  of  its  fur- 


14    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

nishings — aided  by  a  pal  of  his,  an  impecunious  artist  who 
lived  in  Chelsea — it  certainly  was  a  very  passable  bach- 
elor's snuggery. 

The  small  front  room  commanded  a  view  over  the 
river  with  works,  wharves,  and  high  factory  chimneys 
on  the  Middlesex  shore.  To  the  left,  across  the  long 
suspension  bridge,  was  Chiswick  and  Kew,  while  to 
the  right  lay  Putney  and  Chelsea.  Before  the  house 
flowed  the  great  broad  muddy  river  where  once  each  year 
the  University  eights  flashed  past,  while  ever  and  anon, 
year  in,  year  out,  noisy  tugs  towed  strings  of  black  barges 
up  and  down  the  stream. 

Away  across  the  high-road  to  the  left  were  the  great 
reservoirs  of  London's  water  works,  a  huge  open  space 
always  fresh  and  breezy  even  within  a  stone's  throw  of 
stifled  Hammersmith,  with  its  "  tubes  "  and  its  dancing- 
halls.  Used  as  we  both  had  been  to  years  of  roughing 
it,  the  spot  had  taken  our  fancy,  and  we  got  on  famously 
together.  On  most  evenings  we  were  out,  but  sometimes, 
before  we  turned  in,  we  would  sit  and  smoke  and  laugh 
over  our  stirring  adventures  and  humorous  incidents 
in  the  war,  and  the  "  scraps  "  we  had  been  safely  through. 

Since  his  demobilization  Harry  had  fallen  deeply  in 
love  with  an  extremely  pretty  girl  named  Norah  Peyton, 
who  lived  in  a  house  overlooking  the  Terrace  Gardens 
at  Richmond,  and  whose  father  was  partner  in  a  firm 
of  well-known  importers  in  Mincing  Lane.  As  for  my- 
self, I  was  "  unattached."  Like  every  other  young  man 
of  my  age  I  had,  of  course,  had  several  little  affairs  of 
the  heart,  all  of  which  had,  however,  died  within  a  few 
short  weeks. 

Now  it  happened  that  on  the  evening  of  the  day  prior 
to  the  opening  of  this  strange  series  of  adventures  which 
befell  me,  I  was  in  the  city  of  York,  whither  I  had  gone 


PROLOGUE— IS  ABOUT  MYSELF  15 

on  business  for  the  firm,  and  as  my  old-fashioned  em- 
ployers allowed  first-class  travelling  expenses,  I  entered 
an  empty  first-class  compartment  of  the  London  express 
which  left  York  at  six-twenty-three,  and  was  due  at 
King's  Cross  at  ten-thirty. 

A  few  moments  later  a  fellow-passenger  appeared,  a 
well-dressed,  middle-aged  man,  who  asked  me  in  French 
if  the  train  went  to  London,  and  on  my  replying  in  the 
affirmative,  he  thanked  me  profusely  and  joined  me. 

"  I  regret,  m'sieur,  that  I,  alas !  know  so  very  leetl'e 
of  your  Engleesh,"  he  remarked  pleasantly,  and  con- 
tinued in  French :  "  Sometimes  my  ignorance  places  me 
in  great  difficulty  when  en  voyage  here." 

Knowing  French  fairly  well  we  soon  commenced  to 
chat  in  that  language.  He  struck  me  as  a  man  of  con- 
siderable refinement  and  education.  Therefore  it  was  no 
surprise  to  me  when  he  told  me  that,  as  an  official  at 
the  head  office  of  the  Credit  Lyonnais  in  Paris,  it  was 
his  duty  sometimes  to  visit  their  correspondents  in  the 
chief  commercial  centres  of  Great  Britain. 

"  I  am  on  my  way  from  Glasgow  back  to  Paris,"  he 
said.  "  But  I  had  to  break  my  journey  in  York  this 
morning.  I  shall  leave  London  for  Paris  to-morrow. 
I  shall  travel  by  the  air-route,"  he  added ;  "  it  is  so  much 
quicker,  and  far  less  fatiguing.  I  have  been  backwards 
and  forwards  to  the  Croydon  Aerodrome  quite  half  a 
dozen  times  of  late." 

"  Yes,"  I  remarked.  "  Travel  by  aeroplane  must  be  of 
very  considerable  advantage  to  really  busy  men." 

And  thus  we  chatted  until  dinner  was  announced,  and 
we  went  together  along  the  corridor  to  the  restaurant- 
car,  where  we  sat  opposite  each  other. 

As  the  train  sped  along  over  the  flat  fertile  country 
through  Doncaster  and  Grantham  on  that  moonlit  win- 


16    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

ter's  night  we  sat  gossiping  pleasantly,  for  I  had  looked 
forward  to  a  lonely  journey  back  to  London. 

I  have  "  knocked  about "  ever  since  the  commence- 
ment of  the  war,  but  I  abhor  a  lonely  four-hour  railway 
journey.  I  had  had  enough  of  slow  railway  journeys  in 
France  and  elsewhere.  But  on  that  evening  I  confess 
I  was  greatly  taken  with  my  fellow-traveller. 

He  had  all  the  alertness  and  exquisite  politeness  of  the 
Parisian,  and  he  compelled  me  to  have  a  Benedictine  at 
his  expense.  Then,  as  a  quid  pro  quo,  he  took  one  of  my 
cigarettes. 

Later,  when  we  had  concluded  the  usual  and  never- 
altering  meal  provided  by  the  Great  Northern  Railway 
Company — I  often  wonder  who  are  the  culinary  artists 
who  devise  those  menus  which  face  us  on  all  English 
trains — we  returned  to  our  compartment  to  stretch  our- 
selves in  our  corners  and  to  smoke.  Grantham  we  had 
passed  and  we  were  approaching  Peterborough,  the  old 
fen  town  with  the  ancient  cathedral. 

In  French  my  friend  the  banker  kept  up  a  continuous 
chatter,  even  though  I  was  tired  arid  drowsy.  He  had 
told  me  much  concerning  himself,  and  I,  in  turn,  told 
him  of  my  profession  and  where  I  lived.  I  did  not  tell 
him  very  much,  for  I  am  one  of  those  persons  who  pre- 
fer to  keep  themselves  to  themselves.  I  seldom  give 
strangers  any  information.  After  a  time,  indeed,  I  tired 
of  him. 

At  last  we  entered  King's  Cross — a  little  late,  as  is  usual 
on  a  long  run. 

"  I  have  to  get  to  the  Carlton,"  my  companion  said. 
"  Of  course  there  will  be  no  taxis.  But  are  not  you  in 
London  very  badly  served  in  that  respect  ?  We,  in  Paris, 
have  taxis  at  any  hour.  When  your  stations  close  I  find 
always  a  great  difficulty  in  getting  a  conveyance.  By 


PROLOGUE— IS  ABOUT  MYSELF  17 

the  way !    Could  you  not  dine  with  me  to-morrow  night?  " 
"  I  am  sorry,"  I  replied.     "  But  I  have  arranged  to 
visit  my  uncle  in  Orchard  Street." 

Two  minutes  later  the  train  drew  up  slowly,  and  wish- 
ing my  fellow-traveller  bon  soir,  I  expressed  a  hope  that 
one  day,  ere  long,  we  might  meet  again.  I  had  not  given 
him  my  card,  as  our  acquaintance  was  only  upon  chance, 
and — well,  after  all,  he  was  only  a  passing  foreigner. 

Half  an  hour  after  I  had  stepped  from  the  train,  I 
was  back  again  in  my  cosy  little  flat  in  Rivermead  Man- 
sions, after  a  very  strenuous  day.  On  the  hall  table  lay  a 
letter  from  my  solicitors.  I  tore  it  open  eagerly  and 
read  that  they  regretted  to  inform  me  that  certain  in- 
vestments I  had  made  a  year  before,  with  the  money 
which  my  aunt  had  left  me,  had  not  realized  my  expec- 
tations. In  other  words,  I  had  lost  the  whole  of  my 


money 


All  I  possessed  was  the  salary  paid  me  by  Messrs. 
Francis  and  Goldsmith. 

My  heart  stood  still.  The  blow  staggered  me.  Yet, 
after  all,  I  had  been  a  fool — a  fact  which  my  solicitors 
had  hinted  at  the  time. 

I  crushed  the  letter  in  my  hand  and  passed  on  into 
the  little  sitting-room. 

Harry  had  gone  out  to  a  dance,  and  had  left  a  scrib- 
bled note  on  the  table  saying  that  he  had  his  latchkey 
and  would  not  be  back  until  two  or  so.  He  wished  me 
"  cheerio."  So  having  smoked  a  final  cigarette  I  retired. 

Next  day  I  went  to  the  office  in  Great  George  Street 
and  reported  upon  the  businesss  I  had  done  in  York — 
and  good  business  it  was,  too,  with  the  Municipal  Elec- 
tric Supply — and  in  the  evening  I  returned  across  Ham- 
mersmith Bridge  at  about  six  o'clock. 

At  seven  our  buxom  "  Kaiserin  "  put  our  meal  upon 


18    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

the  table — a  roast,  a  sweet,  and  a  wedge  of  Cheshire 
cheese.  The  mind  of  the  dear  old  soul,  who  had  so  many 
relations,  never  rose  above  the  butcher's  joint  and  apple 
tart.  Alas !  that  cooking  is  an  art  still  unknown  in  our 
dear  old  England.  We  sit  at  table  only  by  Nature's 
necessity — not  to  enjoy  the  kindly  fruits  of  the  earth 
as  do  other  nations. 

Yet  what  could  we  expect  of  the  'Ammersmith  char- 
lady who  looked  after  us? — and  who,  by  the  way,  prob- 
ably looked  after  her  own  pocket  as  well. 

The  bachelor's  housekeeper  is  always  a  fifteen  puzzle — 
twelve  for  herself  and  the  remaining  three  for  her  em- 
ployer. As  sure  as  rain  comes  in  winter,  so  does  the 
smug  and  sedate  female  who  keeps  house  for  the  un- 
fortunate unattached  male  place  the  onus  of  house- 
keeping bills  upon  him  and  reap  the  desserts  of  life  for 
herself. 

On  that  particular  evening  I  felt  very  tired,  for  in  the 
five  days  of  my  absence  many  business  matters  had  ac- 
cumulated, and  I  had  had  much  to  attend  to. 

Harry,  who  ate  hurriedly — even  gobbling  his  food — 
told  me  that  he  was  taking  Norah  to  the  theatre,  hence, 
after  dinner,  I  was  left  alone.  I  read  the  evening  paper 
when  he  had  left,  and  then,  at  eight  o'clock,  stretched  my- 
self, for  it  was  time  that  I  went  out  to  my  uncle's. 

The  evening  was  cold  and  bright,  with  twinkling  stars 
which  on  air-raid  nights  in  London  would  have  caused 
much  perturbation  among  average  householders  and 
their  families. 

Our  "  Kaiserin  "  had  gone  home,  so  I  rose,  put  on  my 
overcoat,  switched  off  the  lights  and  descended  the  stairs 
to  Hammersmith  Bridge. 

Thus,  as  you,  my  reader,  will  realize,  I  went  out  in 


PROLOGUE— IS  ABOUT  MYSELF  19 

the  manner  of  a  million  other  men  in  London  on  that  par- 
ticular night  of  Wednesday,  the  seventh  of  November. 

And  yet  all  unconsciously  I  plunged  into  a  vortex  of 
mystery  and  uncertainty  such  as,  perhaps,  no  other  living 
man  has  ever  experienced. 

Again  I  hesitate  to  pen  these  lines. 

Yet,  be  patient,  and  I  will  endeavour,  as  far  as  I  am 
able  in  these  cold  printed  pages,  to  reveal  exactly  what 
occurred,  without  any  exaggeration  or  hysterical  meander- 
ings.  My  only  object  being  to  present  to  you  a  plain, 
straightforward,  and  unvarnished  narrative  of  those 
amazing  occurrences,  and  in  what  astounding  circum- 
stances I  found  myself. 

Surely  it  was  not  any  of  my  own  seeking — as  you  will 
readily  understand.  Because  I  performed  what  I  be- 
lieved to  be  a  good  action — as  most  readers  of  these  pages 
would  have  done  in  similar  circumstances — I  was  re- 
warded by  unspeakable  trouble,  tribulation  and  tragedy. 


CHAPTER  THE  FIRST 

INTRODUCES  OSWALD  DE  GEX 

I  HAD  promised  to  call  upon  Charles  Latimer,  my  bach- 
elor uncle,  a  retired  naval  captain,  a  somewhat  crusty 
old  fellow  who  lived  in  Orchard  Street,  which  runs 
between  Oxford  Street  and  Portman  Square.  I  usually 
went  there  twice  a  week.  With  that  intent  I  took  a  motor 
'bus  from  Hammersmith  Broadway  as  far  as  Hyde  Park 
Corner. 

As  I  stepped  off  the  'bus  rain  began  to  fall,  so  turning 
up  tlie  collar  of  my  coat  I  hurried  up  Park  Lane,  at  that 
hour  half  deserted. 

When  half-way  up  to  Oxford  Street  I  turned  into  one 
of  the  small,  highly  aristocratic  streets  leading  into  Park 
Street  as  a  short  cut  to  Orchard  Street.  The  houses  were 
all  of  them  fine  town  mansions  of  the  aristocracy,  most 
of  them  with  deep  porticos  and  deeper  areas. 

Stretton  Street  was  essentially  one  inhabited  by  the 
highest  in  London  society.  I  had  passed  through  it  many 
times — as  a  Londoner  does  in  making  short  cuts — without 
even  noticing  the  name.  The  Londoner's  geography  is 
usually  only  by  the  landmarks  of  street  corners  and 
"tube"  stations. 

As  I  hurried  along  through  the  rain,  I  suddenly  heard 
a  man's  voice  behind  me  say : 

"  Excuse  me,  sir !  But  may  I  speak  to  you  for  just 
one  second  ?  " 

I  turned,  and  as  I  halted,  a  bare-headed  young  man- 

20 


INTRODUCES  OSWALD  DE  GEX  21 

servant  in  livery,  with  waistcoat  of  striped  black-and- 
yell'ow,  faced  me. 

"  I'm  sorry,  sir,"  he  exclaimed  breathlessly,  "  but  will 
you  wait  just  a  moment?  " 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  I.  asked,  surprised  at  being  thus 
accosted. 

"Would  you  oblige  my  master,  sir?"  inquired  the 
young  man  eagerly.  "  He  is  in  some  very  great  trouble. 
Only  a  moment,  sir.  Just  come  in  and  see  him.  Do. 
Poor  fellow!  he's  in  great  trouble.  Do  come  in  and  see 
him,  sir,"  he  begged. 

Amazed  at  this  appeal,  and  my  curiosity  aroused,  I 
consented,  and  followed  the  man  back  to  a  great  stone- 
built  mansion  about  fifty  yards  away.  The  front  door 
in  its  deep  portico  stood  open,  just  as  the  servant  had 
left  it  when,  apparently,  he  had  dashed  out  into  the  street 
to  accost  the  first  passer-by. 

"  I'm  sure  my  master  will  be  most  grateful  to  you, 
sir,"  the  young  footman  said  as  I  crossed  the  threshold. 

We  passed  through  a  large  square  hall  and  up  a  great 
flight  of  softly-carpeted  stairs  to  the  library  on  the  first 
floor — a  big,  sombre  room,  lined  with  books  from  floor 
to  ceiling — evidently  the  den  of  a  studious  man. 

In  the  grate  there  burned  a  bright  log  fire,  and  on 
either  side  stood  two  deep  leather  armchairs.  It  was 
a  room  possessing  the  acme  of  cosiness  and  comfort.  Over 
the  fireplace  was  set  a  large  circular  painting  of  the 
Madonna  and  Child — evidently  the  work  of  some  Italian 
master  of  the  seventeenth  century — while  here  and  there 
stood  several  exquisite  bronzes. 

In  the  window  on  the  left  was  set  a  great  carved 
Renaissance  writing-table,  and  upon  it  burned  an  electric 
lamp  with  an  artistic  shade  of  emerald  glass. 

A  few  moments  later  a  man  in  evening-dress  entered 


22    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

hurriedly — almost  breathlessly.  I  judged  him  to  be  about 
forty-five,  dark-haired  and  decidedly  handsome,  but  his 
complexion  was  a  trifle  sallow,  and  his  features  had  a 
decidedly  Oriental'  cast. 

He  greeted  me  profusely  in  a  quiet,  highly  refined 
voice.  Though  his  appearance  was  foreign,  yet  he  was 
certainly  English. 

"  I'm  really  awfully  sorry  to  trouble  you,  sir,"  he  said 
in  a  tone  of  profuse  apology,  "  but  the  fact  is  that  I  find 
myself  in  a  state  of  considerable  perplexity.  It  is  ex- 
tremely good  of  you  to  consent  to  accompany  Horton 
back  here.  I  only  hope  that  I  have  not  interfered  with 
any  appointment  you  have  to  keep." 

"  Not  at  all,"  I  replied,  wondering  who  my  host  might 
be,  for  the  whole  affair  was  so  sudden  and  unexpected 
that  I  was  bewildered. 

"  Do  sit  down,  and  have  a  cigar,"  said  my  unknown 
host  cheerily,  and  he  took  up  a  large  silver  box  from 
a  side  table  whereon  was  set  a  decanter  of  whisky,  a 
syphon  of  soda  water  and  four  glasses  upon  a  beautiful 
old  tray  of  Georgian  silver. 

I  selected  a  Corona,  and  sinking  mto  the  inviting  chair, 
lit  it,  while  he  also  took  a  cigar,  and  having  clipped  off 
the  end,  lit  up  as  well. 

We  chatted  affably,  for  my  host  was  certainly  genial- 
ity itself. 

"  This  is  quite  an  unexpected  visit ! "  I  remarked 
laughing,  wondering  still  why  I  had  been  called  in. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  I  should  not  have  had  the  pleasure 
of  your  acquaintance  had  it  not  been  for  the  great  trouble 
I  have  to-night,"  and  he  drew  a  deep  sigh,  while  across 
his  dark  face  passed  an  expression  of  pain  and  regret. 
"  Some  men  are  happy,  others  are — are,  well,  unfortun- 


INTRODUCES  OSWALD  DE  GEX  23 

ately  unhappy  in  their  domestic  life.  I,  alas!  am  one 
cf  the  latter,"  he  added. 

"  That  is  very  regrettable,"  I  said  sympathetically. 

"  My  wife,"  he  said  hoarsely  after  a  pause,  "  my  wife 
took  out  my  little  boy  this  evening  and  deliberately  left 
him  in  Westbourne  Grove — just  in  order  to  spite  me! 
Then  she  rang  me  up  from  some  call-office  and  told  me 
what  she  had  done.  Put  yourself  in  my  place,"  he  said. 
"  Would  you  not  be  indignant?  Would  you  not  be  filled 
with  hatred — and " 

"  I  certainly  should,"  was  my  reply.  "  I'm  a  bachelor, 
and  sometimes  when  I  see  so  many  unhappy  marriages  I 
fear  to  take  the  matrimonial  plunge  myself." 

"  Ah !  Take  my  advice  and  remain  single  as  long  as 
ever  you  can,  my  dear  sir.  I — I  haven't  the  pleasure  of 
your  name." 

"  Garfield— Hugh  Garfield,"  I  said. 

"  Mine  is  De  Gex— Oswald  De  Gex,"  he  said.  "  You 
may  perhaps  have  heard  of  me." 

Heard  of  Oswald  De  Gex !  Of  course  I  had !  He  was 
reputed  to  be  one  of  the  wealthiest  of  men,  but  he  lived 
mostly  in  Paris  or  at  his  magnificent  villa  outside  Flor- 
ence. It  was  common  knowledge  that  he  had,  during 
the  war,  invested  a  level  million  sterling  in  the  War  Loan, 
while  he  was  constantly  giving  great  donations  to  various 
charities.  Somewhat  eccentric,  he  preferred  living  abroad 
to  spending  his  time  in  England,  because,  it  was  said,  of 
some  personal  quarrel  with  another  Member  of  the  House 
of  Commons  which  had  arisen  over  a  debate  soon  after 
he  had  been  elected. 

I  recollected,  too,  that  his  wife — whose  handsome  pic- 
tured face  so  often  appeared  in  the  newspapers — was 
the  daughter  of  a  sporting  baronet,  yet  I  had  never  heard 


24    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

any  whisper  of  such  matrimonial  troubles  as  he  had  just 
revealed  to  me. 

He  seemed  a  most  easy-going  man,  whose  clean-shaven 
face  under  the  softly  shaded  electric  light  did  not  now 
appear  so  sallow  and  foreign  as  at  first.  His  eyes  were 
dark  and  rather  deeply  set,  while  his  mouth  was  narrow 
and  refined,  with  a  dimple  in  the  centre  of  his  chin. 
His  cast  of  features  was  certainly  foreign,  and  handsome 
withal — a  face  full  of  strength  and  character.  When  he 
spoke  he  slightly  aspirated  his  c's,  and  now  and  then  he 
gesticulated  when  enthusiastic,  due,  of  course,  to  his  long 
residence  abroad. 

Often  I  had  read  in  the  newspapers  of  the  splendid 
mediaeval  castle  which  he  had  bought  from  the  Earl  of 
Weymount,  a  castle  perched  high  upon  the  granite  rocks 
facing  the  Channel,  between  the  Lizard  and  St.  Ruan. 
He  had  spent  a  fortune  in  restoring  it,  yet  he  very  seldom 
visited  it.  The  historic  place,  with  its  wind-swept  sur- 
roundings, was  given  over  to  his  agent  at  Truro  and  to  a 
caretaker. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  had  once  seen  it  while  on  a  sum- 
mer tour  in  Cornwall  five  years  before,  a  great  square 
keep  with  four  towers,  storm-worn  and  forbidding — one 
of  the  most  perfect  specimens  of  the  mediaeval  castles 
in  England.  I  had  been  told  by  the  man  who  drove  the 
hired  car  about  its  history,  how  in  the  early  fourteenth 
century  it  had  been  the  home  of  William  Auberville,  a 
favourite  of  Edward  II.  From  the  Aubervilles  the  old 
fortress  had  passed  a  century  later  into  the  Weymount 
family,  and  had  been  their  ancestral  home  for  centuries. 

I  chanced  to  mention  that  I  had  seen  the  castle,  where- 
upon the  millionaire  smiled,  and  remarked : 

"  I  fear  that  I've  not  been  there  lately.  I  am  so  very 
seldom  in  England  nowadays.  Besides,  the  old  place  is 


INTRODUCES  OSWALD  DE  GEX  25 

so  cold  and  gloomy.  It  is  draughty  even  on  a  summer's 
day.  My  wife  liked  it  when  we  were  married — liked  it 
until  somebody  told  her  of  a  family  legend,  how  Hugh 
de  Weymount,  in  the  fifteenth  century,  walled  up  his  wife 
in  the  north  tower  and  left  her  to  starve  to  death.  Ever 
since  she  heard  that  story  she  has  hated  the  old  place. 
But,"  he  added  with  a  hard  laugh,  "  it  is  most  probably 
not  true,  and  if  the  gallant  knight  actually  did  such  a 
thing,  perhaps,  after  all,  the  lady  deserved  it !  " 

My  friend  certainly  seemed  soured  against  the  opposite 
sex.  And  surely  he  had  just  cause  to  be  if  his  wife,  in 
order  to  spite  him,  had  deliberately  lost  the  heir,  little 
Oswald  De  Gex,  in  Westbourne  Grove. 

It  was  a  strange  thing  that  the  heir  of  one  of  the  wealth- 
iest men  in  Britain  should  have  been  abandoned  in 
Bayswater.  As  a  bachelor,  I  wondered  as  to  the  state 
of  mind  of  the  mother — a  mother  who  could  take  out 
her  child  on  a  winter's  night,  without  hat  or  coat,  and 
deliberately  cast  him  adrift  just  to  annoy  her  husband. 

But  the  gentler  sex  in  these  days  of  drugs  and  dancing 
are,  it  must  be  admitted,  strangely  abnormal.  Women 
with  crazes  abound  everywhere.  That  women  are  eman- 
cipated from  the  almost  Oriental  thraldom  in  which  they 
lived  in  the  days  of  Victoria  the  Good  is  a  bright  sign  of 
our  times — the  times  of  discovery,  refinement,  and  mutual 
happiness  of  all  classes.  But  certain  circles — those  cir- 
cles wherein  women  take  drugs  to  enable  them  to  dance 
the  better,  circles  where  opium  is  smoked,  and  where 
morals  do  not  count,  where  religion  is  scoffed  at  and 
relegated  to  the  limbo  of  an  out-of-date  fiction,  and  where 
only  the  possessor  of  money  counts,  there  is  a  strange 
and  mysterious  phase  of  Society  indescribable  by  the  pen. 
Only  those  who  know  of  them  by  personal  experience — 
the  experience  of  "  fast  living  " — can  understand  it.  And 


26          THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

even  the  man-about-town  stands  aghast  at  the  ultra-mod- 
ern crazes. 

As  we  sat  chatting  in  that  quiet  comfortable  room,  I 
confess  that  I  became  rather  fascinated  by  my  host.  Per- 
haps he  was  a  trifle  too  cynical  at  times,  but  his  matri- 
monial trouble  no  doubt  accounted  for  it. 

Suddenly  he  rose  and  stretched  himself  rather  wearily, 
I  thought.  The  thin,  delicate  hand  which  held  his  cigar 
was  long  and  tapering,  and  upon  his  ringer  was  an  antique 
Florentine  ring  in  the  form  of  a  small  emerald  moth.  I 
particularly  noticed  it  as  of  very  unusual  pattern.  I  recol- 
lected seeing  one  of  the  same  design  in  the  Louvre  Mu- 
seum in  Paris  several  years  before. 

"  Ah ! "  he  sighed.  "  I  shall  very  soon  leave  London 
again — thank  goodness!  Next  week  I  return  to  Fiesole 
for  the  winter.  I  am  no  great  lover  of  London — are 
you,  Mr. — Mr.  Garfield?" 

"  My  business  as  an  electrical  engineer  keeps  me  in 
London,"  was  my  reply.  "  Besides,  I  have  recently  sus- 
tained a  very  heavy  financial  loss.  If,  however,  I  were 
independent  I  should  certainly  live  in  the  country.  Lon- 
don has,  to  me,  become  unbearable  since  the  war." 

"  Ah !  I  quite  agree,"  replied  my  host.  "  All  our  fine 
British  traditions  seem  to  have  gone  by  the  board.  That, 
at  least,  is  my  own  view.  But  there — perhaps  I  am 
getting  an  old  fogey." 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  I  replied.  "  Everyone  who  knows 
you,  Mr.  De  Gex,  is  well  aware  of  your  up-to-dateness, 
and  your  great  generosity." 

"Are  they?"  he  asked,  smiling  wearily.  "Personally 
I  care  very  little.  Popularity  and  prosperity  can  be  manu- 
factured by  any  shrewd  press-agent  employed  at  so  much 
a  year.  Without  publicity,  the  professional  man  or 
woman  would  never  obtain  a  hearing.  These  are  the 


INTRODUCES  OSWALD  DE  GEX  27 

days  when  incompetency  properly  boomed  raises  the  in- 
competent to  greatness — and  even  to  Cabinet  rank. 
Neither  would  the  society  woman  ever  obtain  a  friend 
without  her  boom,"  he  went  on.  "  Bah !  I'm  sick  of  it 
all !  "  he  added  with  a  sweep  of  his  thin  white  hand. 
"  But  it  is  refreshing  to  talk  with  you,  a  stranger." 

He  was  certainly  frank  in  his  criticisms,  and  I  was  not 
at  all  surprised  when  he  commenced  to  question  me  as 
to  my  profession,  where  I  lived,  and  what  were  my  future 
plans. 

I  told  him  quite  openly  of  my  position,  and  that  I  lived 
in  Rivermead  Mansions  with  my  friend  Hambledon; 
and  I  also  mentioned  again  the  financial  blow  I  had  just 
received. 

"  Well,"  he  said  lazily,  "  I'm  greatly  indebted  to  you, 
Mr.  Garfield,  for  deigning  to  come  in  and  see  a  much- 
worried  man.  Ah !  you  do  not  know  how  I  suffer  from 
my  wife's  hatred  of  me.  My  poor  little  Oswald.  Fancy 
abandoning  him  in  order  that  the  police  might  find  him. 
But  happily  he  is  back.  Think  of  the  publicity — for  the 
papers  would  have  been  full  of  my  son  being  lost."  Then, 
after  a  pause,  he  added :  "  I  hope  we  shall  see  each  other 
again  before  I  go  back  to  Italy." 

At  that  moment,  the  butler,  Horton,  entered  with  a 
card  upon  a  silver  salver,  whereupon  I  rose  to  leave. 

"  Oh !  don't  go  yet !  "  my  host  urged  quickly,  as  he 
glanced  at  the  card. 

"  Is  he  waiting?"  asked  Mr.  De  Gex,  turning  to  his 
servant. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Oh,  well.  Yes,  I'll  see  him,"  he  said.  And  then, 
excusing  himself,  he  rose  and  left,  followed  by  the 
man. 

Why,  I  wondered,  had  I  been  invited  there  ?    It  seemed 


28    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

curious  that  this  exceedingly  rich  man  was  bursting  to 
confide  his  domestic  troubles  to  a  perfect  stranger. 

I  glanced  around  the  handsome,  well-furnished  room. 

Upon  the  writing-table  lay  a  number  of  letters,  and 
upon  the  red  blotting-pad  was  a  big  wad  of  Treasury 
notes,  under  an  elastic  band,  cast  aside  heedlessly,  as  rich 
men  often  do. 

As  I  sat  there  awaiting  my  host's  return,  I  recollected 
how,  in  the  previous  year,  I  had  seen  in  the  pictorial  press 
photographs  of  the  handsome  Mrs.  De  Gex  attired  in 
jersey  and  breeches,  with  knitted  cap  and  big  woollen 
scarf,  lying  upon  her  stomach  on  a  sleigh  on  the  Cresta 
run.  In  another  photograph  which  I  recollected  she  was 
watching  some  ski-ing,  and  still  another,  when  she  was 
walking  in  the  park  with  a  well-known  Cabinet  Minister 
and  his  wife.  But  her  husband  never  appeared  in  print. 
One  of  his  well-known  idiosyncrasies  was  that  he  would 
never  allow  himself  to  be  photographed. 

At  the  end  of  the  room  I  noticed,  for  the  first  time,  a 
pair  of  heavy  oaken  folding-doors  communicating  with 
the  adjoining  apartment,  and  as  I  sat  there  I  fancied  I 
heard  a  woman's  shrill  but  refined  voice — the  voice  of  a 
well-bred  young  woman,  followed  by  a  peal  of  light, 
almost  hysterical,  laughter,  in  which  a  man  joined. 

My  adventure  was  certainly  a  strange  one.  I  had 
started  out  to  visit  my  prosaic  old  uncle — as  I  so  often 
did — •and  I  had  anticipated  a  very  boring  time.  But  here 
I  was,  by  a  most  curious  circumstance,  upon  friendly 
terms  with  one  of  the  richest  men  in  England. 

Further,  he  seemed  to  have  taken  an  unusual  fancy  to 
me.  Probably  because  I  had  been  sympathetic  regard- 
ing the  rescue  of  little  Oswald  De  Gex.  But  why  he 
should  have  confided  all  this  to  me  I  failed  to  realize. 

As  I  sat  there  by  the  cheerful  fire  I  heard  the  voices 


INTRODUCES  OSWALD  DE  GEX  29 

again  raised  in  the  adjoining  room — the  voices  of  a  man 
and  a  woman. 

Suddenly  a  sweet  perfume  greeted  my  nostrils.  At 
first  it  seemed  like  that  of  an  old-fashioned  pot-pourri 
of  lavender,  verbena  and  basalt,  such  as  our  grandmothers 
decocted  in  their  punch-bowls  from  dried  rose-leaves  to 
give  their  rooms  a  sweet  odour.  The  scent  reminded  me 
of  my  mother's  drawing-room  of  long  ago. 

Gradually  it  became  more  and  more  pungent.  It 
seemed  as  though  some  pastille  were  burning  somewhere, 
for  soon  it  became  almost  sickening,  an  odour  utterly 
overbearing. 

At  the  same  time  I  felt  a  curious  sensation  creeping 
over  me.  Why  I  could  not  tell. 

I  was  both  agitated  and  annoyed.  I  had  only  half  fin- 
ished my  drink,  and  it  was  certainly  not  alcohol  that  was 
affecting  me.  Rather  it  seemed  to  be  that  curious  old- 
world  perfume  which  each  moment  grew  more  pungent. 

I  struggled  against  it.  What  would  my  newly-found 
friend  think  if  he  returned  to  find  me  overcome? 

I  gained  my  feet  with  difficulty  and  managed  to  walk 
across  the  carpet,  holding  my  breath. 

Certainly  my  night's  adventure  was,  to  say  the  least, 
a  curious  one. 

Yet  in  our  post-war  days  in  London  the  man  who  ven- 
tures about  town  after  dark  can  easily  meet  with  as 
strange  occurrences  and  narrow  escapes  as  ever  were 
described  by  the  pioneers  of  Central  Africa.  The  ex- 
plorer Stanley  himself  declared  that  the  African  jungle 
was  safer  than  the  crossing  of  the  Strand. 

I  suppose  I  must  have  remained  in  the  chair  into  which 
I  again  sank  for  a  further  ten  minutes.  My  head  swam. 
My  mental  balance  seemed  to  have  become  strangely  up- 
set by  that  highly  pungent  odour  of  lavender  and  ver- 


30    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

bena.  I  could  even  taste  it  upon  my  tongue,  and  some- 
how it  seemed  to  paralyse  all  my  senses  save  two,  those 
of  sight  and  reason. 

I  had  difficulty  in  moving  my  mouth,  my  fingers,  and 
my  shoulders,  but  my  sense  of  smell  seemed  to  have  be- 
come extremely  acute.  Yet  my  muscles  seemed  rigid, 
although  my  brain  remained  perfectly  clear  and  unim- 
paired. 

It  was  that  scent  of  verbena — now  terrible  and  detest- 
able— a  million  times  more  potent  than  any  bath  soap — 
which  filled  my  nostrils  so  that  it  seemed  to  choke  me. 
I  longed  for  fresh  air. 

By  dint  of  persistent  effort  I  rose,  dragged  myself 
across  the  room,  drew  aside  the  heavy  silken  curtain, 
and  opening  the  window  leaned  out  into  the  cold  air, 
gasping  for  breath. 

Where  was  Mr.  De  Gex? 

For  about  five  minutes  I  remained  there,  yet  even  the 
night  air  gave  me  little  relief.  My  throat  had  become 
contracted  until  I  seemed  to  be  choking. 

By  the  exercise  of  greater  effort  I  staggered  back, 
aghast  at  the  sudden  and  unaccountable  attack,  and 
pressed  the  electric  bell  beside  the  fireplace  to  summon 
my  host  or  the  estimable  Horton.  Then  I  sank  back 
into  the  armchair,  my  limbs  paralysed. 

How  long  I  remained  there  I  cannot  tell  for  that  pung- 
ent odour  had,  at  last,  dulled  my  brain.  I  had  heard  of 
cocaine,  of  opium,  and  of  other  drugs,  and  it  occurred 
to  me  that  I  might  be  under  the  influence  of  one  or  the 
other  of  them.  Yet  the  idea  was  absurd.  I  was  Mr. 
De  Gex's  guest,  and  I  could  only  suppose  that  my  sud- 
den seizure  was  due  to  natural  causes — to  some  com- 
plication of  a  mental  nature  which  I  had  never  suspected. 


INTRODUCES  OSWALD  DE  GEX  31 

The  human  brain  is  a  very  complex  composition,  and  its 
strange  vagaries  are  only  known  to  alienists. 

I  seemed  stifled,  and  I  sat  clutching  the  arms  of  the 
big  leather  chair  when  my  host  at  last  entered,  smiling 
serenely  and  full  of  apologies. 

"  I'm  awfully  sorry  to  have  left  you,  Mr.  Garfield,  but 
my  agent  called  to  do  some  very  urgent  business.  Pray 
excuse  me,  won't  you?" 

"I — I'm  awfully  sorry!"  I  exclaimed.  "But  I — I 
don't  feel  very  well.  I  must  apologize,  Mr.  De  Gex,  but 
would  you  ask  your  man  to  order  me  a  taxi?  I — well, 
I've  come  over  strangely  queer  since  you've  been  out." 

"  Bah !  my  dear  fellow,"  he  laughed  cheerily.  "  You'll 
surely  be  all  right  in  a  few  minutes.  Stay  here  and  rest. 
I'm  sorry  you  don't  feel  well.  You'll  be  better  soon.  I'll: 
order  my  car  to  take  you  home  in  half  an  hour." 

Then  he  crossed  to  the  telephone,  rang  up  a  number, 
and  ordered  his  car  to  be  at  the  house  in  half  an  hour. 

Then  he  rang  for  Horton,  who  brought  me  a  liqueur 
glass  of  old  brandy,  which  at  my  host's  suggestion  I 
swallowed. 

Mr.  De  Gex,  standing  upon  the  thick  Turkey  hearth- 
rug with  his  cigar  between  his  lips,  watched  me  closely. 
Apparently  he  was  considerably  perturbed  at  my  sudden 
illness,  for  he  expressed  regret,  hoping  that  the  brandy 
would  revive  me. 

It,  however,  had  the  opposite  effect.  The  strong  per- 
fume like  pot-pourri  had  confused  my  senses,  but  the 
brandy  dulled  them  still  further.  I  felt  inert  and  unable 
to  move  a  muscle,  or  even  to  exercise  my  will  power. 
Yet  my  sense  of  sight  was  quite  unimpaired. 

I  recollect  distinctly  how  the  dark  keen-faced  aristocrat- 
looking  man  stood  before  me  alert  and  eager,  as  he  gazed 


32    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

intently  into  my  face  as  though  watching  the  progress 
of  my  seizure  which  had  so  completely  paralysed  me. 

Of  a  sudden  a  loud  shriek  sounded  from  the  adjoining 
room — a  woman's  wild  shriek  of  terror. 

My  host's  thin  lips  tightened. 

The  scream  was  repeated,  and  continued. 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  exclaimed  as  he  left  the  room  hastily. 

I  sat  with  ears  alert.  It  was  surely  most  strange  that 
the  well-known  millionaire,  whose  name  was  on  every- 
one's lips,  had  confided  in  me  as  he  had  done.  Why  had 
he  done  so? 

The  screams  of  terror  continued  for  about  half  a  min- 
ute. Then  they  seemed  stifled  down  to  heavy  sobbing. 
They  seemed  to  be  hysterical  sobs,  as  of  someone  who 
had  suffered  from  some  great  shock. 

I  was  full  of  wonderment.  It  was  unusual,  I  thought, 
that  such  noises  should  be  heard  in  a  sedate  West  End 
mansion. 

There  was  a  long-drawn-out  sob,  and  then  silence.  A 
dead  silence ! 

A  few  moments  later  Mr.  De  Gex  came  in  looking  very 
flushed  and  excited. 

"  My  troubles  are  ever  on  the  increase,"  he  exclaimed 
breathlessly.  "  Come,  Mr.  Garfield.  Come  with  me." 

He  assisted  me  to  my  feet  and  led  me  out  into  the 
corridor  and  into  the  adjoining  room. 

To  my  surprise  it  was  a  great  handsomely  furnished 
bedroom  with  heavy  hangings  of  yellow  silk  before  the 
windows,  and  a  great  dressing-table  with  a  huge  mirror 
with  side  wings.  Along  one  side  were  wardrobes  built 
into  the  wall,  the  doors  being  of  satinwood  beautifully 
inlaid. 

In  the  centre  stood  a  handsome  bed,  and  upon  it  lay 
a  young  and  beautiful  girl  wearing  a  dark  blue  serge 


INTRODUCES  OSWALD  DE  GEX  33 

walking  dress  of  the  latest  mode.  Her  hat  was  off,  and 
across  her  dark  hair  was  a  band  of  black  velvet.  The 
light,  shining  upon  her  white  face — a  countenance 
which  has  ever  since  been  photographed  upon  my  mem- 
ory— left  the  remainder  of  the  room  in  semi-darkness. 

"  My  poor  niece !  "  Mr.  De  Gex  said  breathlessly.  "  She 
— she  has  been  subject  to  fits  of  hysteria.  The  doctor 
has  warned  her  of  her  heart.  You  heard  her  cries.  I — 
I  believe  she's  dead ! " 

We  both  moved  to  the  bed,  my  host  still  supporting  me. 
I  bent  cautiously  and  listened,  but  I  could  hear  no  sound 
of  breathing.  Her  heart  has  ceased  to  beat ! 

He  took  a  hand  mirror  from  the  dressing-table  and 
held  it  over  her  mouth.  When  he  withdrew  it  it  re- 
mained unclouded. 

"  She's  dead — dead ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  And — well,  I 
am  in  despair.  First,  my  wife  defies  me — and  now  poor 
Gabrielle  is  dead !  How  would  you  feel  ?  " 

"  I  really  don't  know,"  I  whispered. 

"  Come  back  with  me  into  the  library,"  he  urged.  "  We 
can't  speak  here.  I — well — I  want  to  be  perfectly  frank 
with  you." 

And  he  conducted  me  back  to  the  room  where  we  had 
been  seated  together. 

I  had  resumed  my  seat  much  puzzled  and  excited  by 
the  tragedy  that  had  occurred — the  sudden  death  of  my 
host's  niece. 

"  Now,  look  here,"  exclaimed  Mr.  De  Gex,  standing 
upon  the  hearthrug,  his  sallow  face  pale  and  drawn. 
"  Your  presence  here  is  most  opportune.  You  must 
render  me  assistance  in  this  unfortunate  affair,  Mr.  Gar- 
field.  I  feel  that  I  can  trust  you,  and  I — well,  I  hope  you 
can  trust  me  in  return.  Will  you  consent  to  help  me?  " 

"  In  what  way  ?  "  I  asked. 


34 

"  I'm  in  a  hole — a  desperate  hole,"  he  said  very  anx- 
iously. "  Poor  Gabrielle  has  died,  but  if  it  gets  out  that 
her  death  is  sudden,  then  there  must  be  a  coroner's  in- 
quiry with  all  its  publicity — photographs  in  the  picture- 
papers,  and,  perhaps,  all  sorts  of  mud  cast  at  me.  I 
want  to  avoid  all  this — and  you  alone  can  help  me !  " 

"  How  ?  "  I  inquired,  much  perturbed  by  the  tragic  oc- 
currence. 

"  By  giving  a  death  certificate." 

"  But  I'm  not  a  doctor !  " 

"  You  can  pass  as  one,"  he  said,  looking  very  straight 
at  me.  "  Besides,  it  is  so  easy  for  you  to  write  out  a 
certificate  and  sign  it,  with  a  change  of  your  Christian 
name.  There  is  a  Gordon  Garfield  in  the  '  Medical  List/ 
Won't  you  do  it  for  me,  and  help  me  out  of  a  very 
great  difficulty?  Do!  I  implore  you,"  he  urged. 

"  But— I— I " 

"  Please  do  not  hesitate.  You  have  only  to  give  the 
certificate.  Here  is  pen  and  paper.  And  here  is  a  blank 
form.  My  niece  died  of  heart  disease,  for  which  you 
have  attended  her  several  times  during  the  past  six 
months." 

"  I  certainly  have  not !  " 

"  No,"  he  replied,  grinning.  "  I  am  aware  of  that. 
But  surely  five  thousand  pounds  is  easily  earned  by  writ- 
ing out  a  certificate.  I'll  write  it — you  only  just  copy 
it,"  and  he  bent  and  scribbled  some  words  upon  a  slip 
of  paper. 

Five  thousand  pounds!  It  was  a  tempting  offer  in 
face  of  the  fact  that  I  had  just  lost  practically  a  similar 
sum. 

"  But  how  do  I  know  that  Miss " 

"  Miss  Engledue,"  he  said. 


INTRODUCES  OSWALD  DE  GEX  35 

"  Well,  how  do  I  know  that  Miss  Engledue  has  not — 
well,  has  not  met  with  foul  play?"  I  asked. 

"  You  don't,  my  dear  sir.  That  I  admit.  Yet  you 
surely  do  not  suspect  me  of  murdering  my  niece — the 
girl  I  have  brought  up  as  my  own  daughter,"  and  he 
laughed  grimly.  "  Five  thousand  pounds  is  a  decent  sum," 
he  added.  "  And  in  this  case  you  can  very  easily  earn 
it." 

"  By  posing  as  a  medical  man,"  I  remarked.  "  A  very 
serious  offence ! " 

Again  my  host  smiled,  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  after  a  pause.  "  Here  is  the  certifi- 
cate for  you  to  copy.  Reject  my  offer  if  you  like ;  but 
I  think  you  must  agree  that  it  is  a  most  generous  one. 
To  me,  money  is  but  little  object.  My  only  concern  is 
the  annoying  publicity  which  a  coroner's  inquiry  must 
bring." 

I  confess  that  I  was  wavering.  The  shrewd,  clever 
man  at  once  realized  the  position,  and  again  he  con- 
ducted me  to  the  chamber  where  the  young  girl  was  lying 
cold  and  still. 

I  shall  ever  recollect  that  beautiful  face,  white  and 
cold  like  chiselled  marble  it  seemed,  for  rigor  mortis  was 
apparently  already  setting  in. 

Back  again  in  the  library  Oswald  De  Gex  took  from 
his  safe  a  bundle  of  hundred-pound  Bank  of  England 
notes,  and  counted  them  out — fifty  of  them. 

He  held  them  in  his  hand  with  a  sheet  of  blank  note- 
paper  bearing  an  address  in  Queen  Anne  Street,  Caven- 
dish Square,  and  a  blank  form.  Thus  he  tempted  me — 
and — and  at  last  I  fell ! 

When  I  had  written  and  signed  the  certificate,  he 
handed  me  the  bundle  of  notes. 


36    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

I  now  remember  that,  at  that  moment,  he  took  some 
pastilles  from  his  pocket  and  placed  one  in  his  mouth. 
I  thought  perhaps  they  were  throat  lozenges.  Of  a  sud- 
den, however,  the  atmosphere  seemed  to  be  overpower- 
ingly  oppressive  with  the  odour  of  heliotrope.  It  seemed 
a  house  of  subtle  perfumes! 

The  effect  upon  me  was  that  of  delirious  intoxication. 
I  could  hear  nothing  and  I  could  think  of  nothing. 

My  senses  were  entirely  confused,  and  I  became  utterly 
dazed. 

What  did  it  all  mean? 

I  only  know  that  I  placed  the  wad  of  bank  notes  in 
the  inner  pocket  of  my  waistcoat,  and  that  I  was  talking 
to  the  millionaire  when,  of  a  sudden,  my  brain  felt  as 
though  it  had  suddenly  become  frozen. 

The  scent  of  verbena  became  nauseating — even  in- 
toxicating. But  upon  Oswald  De  Gex,  who  was  still 
munching  his  pastille,  the  odour  apparently  had  no  effect. 

All  I  recollect  further  is  that  I  sank  suddenly  into  a 
big  arm-chair,  while  my  host's  face  grinned  demoniacally 
in  complete  satisfaction.  I  slowly  lapsed  into  blank  un- 
consciousness. 

Little  did  I  at  the  time  dream  with  what  amazing  clev- 
erness the  trap  into  which  I  had  fallen  had  been  baited. 

But  what  happened  to  me  further  I  will  endeavour  to 
describe  to  you. 


CHAPTER  THE  SECOND 
THE  SISTER'S  STORY 

A  STRANGE  sensation  crept  over  me,  for  I  suddenly  felt 
that  my  brain,  dazed  by  that  subtle  odour  of  pot-pourri, 
was  slowly  unclouding — ever  so  slowly — until,  to  my 
amazement,  I  found  myself  seated  upon  a  garden  chair 
on  a  long  veranda  which  overlooked  a  sloping  garden, 
with  the  blue-green  sunlit  sea  beyond. 

Of  the  lapse  of  time  I  have  no  idea  to  this  day;  nor 
have  I  any  knowledge  of  what  happened  to  me. 

All  I  am  able  to  relate  is  the  fact  that  I  found  myself 
in  overcoat  and  hat  seated  upon  a  long  terrace  in  the 
noon  sunlight  of  winter. 

I  gazed  around,  utterly  astonished.  The  clothes  I 
wore  seemed  coarse  and  unfamiliar.  My  hand  went  to 
my  chin,  when  I  found  that  I  had  grown  a  beard !  My 
surroundings  were  strange  and  mysterious.  The  houses 
on  either  side  were  white  and  inartistic,  with  sloping  roofs 
and  square  windows.  They  were  foreign — evidently 
French ! 

The  shrill  siren  of  a  factory  sounded  somewhere,  re- 
leasing the  workers.  Far  away  before  me  a  steamer  away 
on  the  horizon  left  a  long  trail  of  smoke  behind,  while 
here  and  there  showed  the  brown  sails  of  fishing  boats. 

I  rose  from  my  seat,  filled  with  curiosity,  and  glanced 
at  the  house  before  which  I  stood.  It  was  a  big  square 
building  of  red  brick  with  many  square  windows.  It 
seemed  like  a  hospital  or  institution. 

37 


38          THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

That  it  was  the  former  was  quickly  revealed,  for  a  few 
moments  after  I  had  risen,  a  nursing-sister  in  a  tri- 
winged  linen  head-dress  appeared  and  spoke  kindly  to 
me,  asking  in  French  how  I  felt  on  that  glorious  morn- 
ing. 

"  I  am  quite  all  right,"  was  my  reply  in  French.  "  But 
where  am  I  ?  "  I  inquired,  utterly  dazed. 

"  Never  mind,  m'sieur,  where  you  are,"  replied  the 
stout,  middle-aged  woman  in  blue  uniform  and  broad  col- 
lar. "  You  have  only  to  get  better." 

"  But  I  am  better,"  I  protested.  "  I  lost  consciousness 
in  London — and  now  I  awake  here  to  find  myself — > 
where?" 

"  You  are  in  good  hands,  so  why  trouble  ?  "  asked  the 
Sister  very  kindly.  "  You  are  upset,  I  know.  Do  not 
worry.  Take  things  quite  easily.  Do  not  try  to  recall 
the  past." 

"  The  past !  "  I  cried.  "  What  has  passed— eh  ?  What 
has  happened  since  I  went  through  Stretton  Street  the 
other  night?" 

The  Sister  smiled  at  me.  She  seemed  inclined  to  hu- 
mour me — as  she  would  a  child. 

"  Do  not  perturb  yourself,  I  beg  of  you,"  she  said  in 
a  sympathetic  voice.  "  There  is  really  no  need  for  ft. 
Only  just  remain  calm — and  all  will  be  right." 

"  But  you  do  not  explain,  Sister,"  I  said.  "  Why  am 
I  here?  And  where  am  I?"  I  asked,  gazing  vacantly 
around  me. 

"  You  are  with  friends — friends  who  have  looked  after 
you,"  was  her  reply.  "We  are  all  very  sorry  for  your 
motor  accident." 

"  Motor  accident !  "  I  echoed.  "  I  have  had  no  motor 
accident." 


THE  SISTER'S  STORY  39 

Again  the  dark-eyed  woman  smiled  in  disbelief,  and 
it  annoyed  me.  Indeed,  it  goaded  me  to  anger. 

"  But  you  told  us  all  about  it.  How  you  started  out 
from  the  Quay  at  Boulogne  late  at  night  to  drive  to 
Abbeville,  and  how  your  hired  chauffeur  held  you  up, 
and  left  you  at  the  roadside,"  she  said.  "  Yet  the  curious 
fact  about  your  strange  story  is  the  money." 

"  Money !  What  money  ?  "  I  gasped,  utterly  astounded 
by  the  Sister's  remark. 

"  The  money  they  found  upon  you,  a  packet  of  bank 
notes.  The  police  have  the  five  thousand  pounds  in 
English  money,  I  believe." 

"  The  police !    Why  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No,"  she  said,  smiling,  and  still  humouring  me  as 
though  I  were  a  child.  "  Don't  bother  about  it  now.  You 
are  a  little  better  to-day.  To-morrow  we  will  talk  of 
it  all." 

"  But  where  am  I  ? "  I  demanded,  still  bewildered. 

"  You  are  in  St.  Malo,"  was  her  slow  reply. 

"St.  Malo!"  I  echoed.  "How  did  I  get  here?  I 
have  no  remembrance  of  it." 

"  Of  course  you  have  not,"  replied  the  kindly  woman 
in  the  cool-looking  head-dress.  "You  are  only  just 
recovering." 

"From  what?" 

"  From  loss  of  memory,  and — well,  the  doctors  say 
you  have  suffered  from  a  complete  nervous  breakdown." 

I  was  aghast,  scarce  believing  myself  to  be  in  my  senses, 
and  at  the  same  time  wondering  if  it  were  not  all  a 
dream.  But  no !  Gradually  all  the  events  of  that  night 
in  Stretton  Street  arose  before  me.  I  saw  them  again 
in  every  detail — Oswald  De  Gex,  his  servant,  Horton, 
and  the  dead  girl,  pale  but  very  beautiful,  as  she  lay  with 
closed  eyes  upon  her  deathbed. 


40          THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

I  recollected,  too,  the  certificate  I  had  given  for  pay- 
ment— those  notes  which  the  police  held  in  safe  custody. 

The  whole  adventure  seemed  a  hideous  nightmare. 
And  yet  it  was  all  so  real. 

But  how  did  I  come  to  be  in  St.  Malo?  How  did  I 
travel  from  London? 

"  Sister,"  I  said  presently.  "  JVhat  is  the  date  of  to- 
day?" 

"  The  eleventh  of  December,"  she  replied. 

The  affair  at  Stretton  Street  had  occurred  on  the 
night  of  November  7th,  over  a  month  before ! 

"  And  how  long  have  I  been  here?" 

"  Nearly  three  weeks,"  was  her  answer. 

Was  it  really  possible  that  I  had  been  lost  for  the 
previous  ten  days  or  so? 

I  tried  to  obtain  some  further  facts  from  my  nurse, 
but  she  refused  to  satisfy  my  curiosity. 

"  I  have  been  ordered  by  the  doctors  to  keep  you 
very  quiet,"  she  said.  "  Please  do  not  ask  me  to  break 
my  promise.  You  will  be  much  better  to-morrow — and 
they  will  tell  you  everything." 

"  But  mine  is  a  strange  case,  is  it  not?  "  I  asked. 

"  Very  strange,"  she  admitted.  "  We  have  all  been 
much  puzzled  concerning  you." 

"  Then  why  not  tell  me  all  the  circumstances  now  ? 
Why  keep  me  in  suspense  ?  "  I  urged. 

"  Because  you  have  not  yet  quite  recovered.  You  are 
not  entirely  yourself.  Come,"  she  added  kindly,  "  let 
us  take  a  little  walk.  It  will  do  you  good  for  the  weather 
is  so  lovely  to-day." 

At  her  suggestion  I  strolled  by  her  side  through  the 
pleasant  grounds  of  the  hospital,  down  into  St.  Malo, 
the  busy  streets  of  which  were,  however,  entirely  un- 
familiar to  me.  Yet,  according  to  the  Sister,  I  had  walked 


THE  SISTER'S  STORY  41 

in  them  a  number  of  times  before.  Still,  I  had  no  recol- 
lection of  doing  so. 

"  I  am  taking  you  for  your  favourite  stroll,"  she  said, 
as  we  went  down  one  of  the  steep,  tortuous  streets  to  the 
little  Place  Chateaubriand  in  front  of  the  ancient  castle, 
which,  she  told  me,  was  now  a  barracks. 

Presently  she  mounted  to  the  ramparts,  and  as  we 
strolled  round  them,  I  admired  the  beautiful  view  of 
the  sea,  the  many  islets,  and  the  curious  appearance  of 
the  town.  The  tide  was  up,  and  the  view  on  that  sunny 
December  morning  was  glorious. 

At  one  point  where  we  halted  my  nurse  pointed  out 
the  little  summer  town  of  Dinard  and  St.  Enogat,  and 
told  me  the  names  of  the  various  islets  rising  from  the 
sea,  Les  Herbiers,  the  Grand  Jardin,  La  Conchee,  and 
all  the  rest. 

But  I  walked  those  ramparts  like  a  man  in  a  dream. 
A  new  life  had,  in  that  past  hour,  opened  up  to  me. 
What  had  occurred  since  I  had  accepted  that  bundle 
of  bank  notes  from  the  millionaire's  hand  I  did  not  know. 
I  had  emerged  from  the  darkness  of  unconsciousness  into 
the  knowledge  of  things  about  me,  and  found  myself  amid 
surroundings  which  I  had  never  before  known — in  a 
French  hospital  where  they  evidently  viewed  me  as  an 
interesting  "  case." 

I  stood  against  the  wall  and  gazed  about.  My  habit 
was  to  carry  my  cigarette-case  in  my  upper  waistcoat 
pocket.  Instinctively  I  felt  for  it,  and  it  was  there.  It 
was  not  my  own  silver  case,  but  a  big  nickel  one,  yet 
in  it  there  were  some  of  my  own  brand. 

I  looked  inquiringly  at  my  nurse. 

She  smiled,  saying: 

"  You  haven't  many  left.  Why  can't  you  smoke  some 
other  brand?  You  always  insist  upon  that  one.  I  had 


42  THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

so  much  difficulty  in  getting  them  for  you  yesterday ! " 

"  They  are  my  own  particular  fancy,"  I  said,  tapping 
one  of  them  upon  the  case  before  lighting  it. 

"  I  know.  But  here,  in  France,  they  are  most  diffi- 
cult to  get.  The  other  day  you  said  you  had  smoked 
them  all  through  the  war,  and  even  when  you  were  in 
Italy  you  had  had  them  sent  out  to  you  from  London." 

That  was  quite  correct. 

"  Well,  Sister,"  I  laughed.  "  I  have  no  recollection 
of  saying  that,  but  it  is  perfectly  true.  It  seems  that 
only  this  morning  I  regained  consciousness." 

"  Professor  Thillot  said  you  would.  Others  gave  you 
up,  but  he  declared  that  after  careful  nursing  your  mem- 
ory would  regain  its  normal  balance." 

"Who  is  Professor  Thillot?" 

"  The  great  nerve  specialist  of  Paris.  The  police  en- 
gaged him  to  come  to  see  you.  He  was  here  ten  days 
ago,  and  he  put  you  under  my  charge." 

I  laughed. 

"  Then  I  am  still  an  interesting  case,  Sister — eh  ?  " 

"  Yes.    You  certainly  are." 

"  But  do  tell  me  more  of  what  L  am  in  ignorance,"  I 
implored.  "  I  want  to  know  how  I  came  here — in  France 
— when  I  lost  all  consciousness  in  a  house  just  off  Park 
Lane,  in  London." 

"  To-morrow,"  she  said,  firmly,  but  kindly.  She  was 
a  charming  woman,  whose  name  she  gave  me  as  Sceur 
Marie. 

We  strolled  back  to  the  hospital,  but  on  the  way  along 
the  Quai  Duguay-Trouin — I  noticed  it  written  up — I 
became  again  confused.  My  vision  was  not  as  it  should 
have  been,  and  my  memory  seemed  blurred,  even  of 
the  happenings  of  the  past  hour. 

My  nurse  chatted  as  we  walked  together  through  the 


THE  SISTER'S  STORY  43 

streets,  but  I  know  that  my  answers  were  unintelligible. 
1  felt  I  was  not  myself.  All  my  senses  were  keen  as 
far  as  I  could  gauge — all  save  that  of  my  memory  of  the 
past. 

As  I  ascended  through  the  pretty  grounds  of  the  hos- 
pital, the  Sister  beside  me,  I  felt  a  curious  failing  of  my 
heart.  I  experienced  a  sensation  which  I  cannot  here 
describe,  as  of  one  who  had  lost  all  interest  in  life,  and 
who  longed  for  death. 

There  may  be  some  among  my  readers  who  have  ex- 
perienced it,  perhaps.  I  cannot  describe  it;  I  merely 
explain  that  I  felt  inert,  inefficient,  and  bored  with  life. 

No  such  feeling  had  ever  fallen  upon  me  before. 
Hitherto  I  had  been  quick,  alert,  and  full  of  the  enjoy- 
ment of  living.  At  Rivermead  Mansions  Harry  Hamble- 
don  and  I  had  prided  ourselves  on  our  post-war  alert- 
ness. 

Where  was  Harry?  What  was  he  doing?  Would  he 
be  wondering  why  I  was  absent  from  our  riparian  bach- 
elor home? 

I  was  reflecting  upon  all  this  when  suddenly,  without 
any  apparent  cause,  I  once  more  lost  consciousness.  We 
were  at  that  moment  entering  the  door  of  the  hospital  and 
the  Sister  had  just  exclaimed: 

"  Now,  do  remain  quite  quiet  and  not  worry  over  the 
past.  It  will  all  be  right  to-morrow,"  she  urged. 

I  know  not  what  words  I  uttered  in  reply.  A  curious 
sense  of  oppression  had  fallen  upon  me,  a  hot,  burning 
feeling  as  though  my  skull  was  filled  with  molten  metal, 
while  at  the  back  of  my  neck  was  a  sharp  excruciating 
pain  which  caused  me  to  hold  my  breath. 

The  Sister  apparently  noticed  my  sudden  relapse,  for 
she  expressed  a  hope  that  I  was  not  feeling  worse.  I 
tried  to  reassure  her  that  I  was  all  right,  but  I  know 


44          THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

I  failed  to  do  so,  for  once  again  I  lost  all  knowledge 
of  things  about  me. 

After  that  I  recollect  nothing  more.  Probably  I  walked 
on  mechanically  back  to  my  bed. 

When  my  lapse  had  passed,  and  I  again  regained  con- 
sciousness, I  found  myself  in  bed  gazing  up  at  the  ceil- 
ing. On  either  side  of  me  were  men,  also  in  bed.  They 
were  talking  in  French. 

I  listened,  and  in  a  few  seconds  I  recollected  the  events 
of  the  previous  day.  Then  a  sharp-featured  nurse,  whom 
I  had  not  seen  before,  told  us  it  was  time  to  dress.  I 
obeyed,  but  my  clothes  were  entirely  unfamiliar.  They 
were  coarse  and  did  not  fit  me. 

While  I  washed  I  burst  out  laughing.  The  humour 
of  the  situation  struck  me  as  distinctly  amusing.  At  one 
hour  I  was  myself ;  at  the  next  I  was  another  being ! 

Was  my  case  that  of  Jekyll  and  Hyde  ? 

I  knew,  and  I  felt  keenly  about  it,  that  I  had  accepted 
a  bribe  to  perform  an  illicit  service.  I  had  posed  as  a 
medical  man  and  given  a  certificate  of  death.  But  my  one 
and  only  object  in  life  was  to  see  Mr.  De  Gex  and  de- 
mand of  him  a  full  explanation  of  the  amazing  and  sus- 
picious circumstances. 

My  lapses  were  intermittent.  At  times  I  was  fully  con- 
scious of  the  past.  At  others  my  brain  was  awhirl  and 
aflame.  I  could  think  of  nothing,  see  nothing — only  dis- 
torted visions  of  things  about  me. 

Apparently  twenty-four  hours  had  passed  since  I 
walked  in  the  sunshine. 

The  men  in  the  hospital  ward  were  all  Frenchmen, 
apparently  of  the  lower  class.  At  one  end  of  the  room 
a  heated  argument  was  in  progress  in  which  four  or 
five  men  were  gesticulating  and  wrangling,  while  one 


THE  SISTER'S  STORY  45 

man  was  seated  on  his  bed  laughing  idiotically,  it  seemed, 
at  his  own  thoughts. 

Presently  a  tall  thin  man  in  spectacles  entered,  and 
addressing  me,  asked  me  to  follow  him. 

I  obeyed,  and  he  conducted  me  to  a  small  kind  of 
office  in  which  two  men  were  standing.  Both  were  mid- 
dle-aged, and  of  official  aspect. 

Having  given  me  a  chair  they  all  seated  themselves 
when  the  thin  man — who  I  rightly  judged  to  be  the 
director  of  the  hospital — commenced  to  interrogate  me. 

"  How  do  you  feel  to-day  ? "  was  his  first  question, 
wMch  he  put  in  French  in  a  quiet,  kindly  manner. 

"  I  feel  much  better,"  was  my  reply.  "  But  yester- 
day my  nurse  revealed  to  me  some  very  extraordinary 
facts  concerning  myself." 

"  Yes.  You  have  been  seriously  ill,"  he  said.  "  But 
now  you  are  better  these  gentlemen  wish  to  put  a  few 
questions  to  you." 

"  They  are  police  officers,  I  presume." 

The  director  nodded  in  the  affirmative. 

"  We  wish  to  ascertain  exactly  what  happened  to  you, 
monsieur,"  exclaimed  the  elder  of  the  pair. 

"  I  really  don't  know,"  I  replied.  "  I  must  have  lost 
all  consciousness  in  London,  and " 

"  In  London !  "  exclaimed  Monsieur  Leullier,  the  Pre- 
fect of  Police,  in  great  surprise.  "  Then  how  came  you 
here  in  St.  Malo?" 

"  I  have  not  the  slightest  idea,"  was  my  reply.  "  I 
only  presume  that  I  was  found  here." 

"  You  were.  A  fish-porter  passing  along  the  Quay  St. 
Vincent  at  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  found  you 
seated  on  the  ground  with  your  back  to  the  wall,  moan- 
ing as  though  in  pain.  He  called  the  police  and  you  were 


46    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

removed  on  the  ambulance  to  the  hospital  here.  The 
doctors  found  that  you  were  in  no  pain,  but  that  you 
could  give  no  intelligible  account  of  yourself." 

"What  did  I  tell  them?" 

"  Oh !  a  number  of  silly  stories.  At  one  moment  you 
said  you  had  come  from  Italy.  Then  you  said  that  you 
had  hired  a  motor-car  and  the  driver  had  attacked  you 
in  the  night.  Afterwards  you  believed  yourself  to  be 
in  some  office,  and  talked  about  electrical  engineering." 

"  That  is  my  profession,"  I  said.  And  I  told  them  my 
name  and  my  address  in  London,  facts  which  the  police 
carefully  set  down. 

"  You  told  us  that  your  name  was  Henry  Aitken,  and 
that  you  lived  mostly  in  Italy — at  some  place  near  Rome. 
We  have  made  inquiries  by  telegraph  of  a  number  of 
people  whom  you  have  mentioned,  but  all  their  replies 
have  been  in  the  negative,"  said  the  police  official. 

"  Well,  I  am  now  entirely  in  possession  of  my  full 
senses,"  I  declared.  "  But  how  I  got  to  France  I  have  not 
the  slightest  knowledge.  I  lost  consciousness  in  a  house 
in  Stretton  Street,  in  London.  Since  then  I  have  known 
nothing — until  yesterday." 

"  In  what  circumstances  did  you  lapse  into  unconscious- 
ness ?  "  asked  the  doctor,  looking  intently  at  me  through 
his  glasses,  for  mine  was  no  doubt  an  extremely  interest- 
ing case.  "What  do  you  remember?  Did  you  receive 
any  sudden  shock?" 

I  explained  that  being  on  a  visit  to  a  friend — as  I 
designated  Oswald  De  Gex — his  niece  died  very  suddenly. 
And  after  that  I  became  unconscious. 

The  Prefect  of  Police  naturally  became  very  inquisi- 
tive, but  I  preferred  not  to  satisfy  his  curiosity.  My 
intention  was  to  return  to  London  and  demand  from  De 
Gex  a  full  explanation  of  what  had  actually  occurred  on 


THE  SISTER'S  STORY  47 

that  fatal  night.     I  was  full  of  suspicion  regarding  the 
sudden  death  of  his  niece,  Gabrielle  Engledue. 

The  police  official  told  me  that  from  my  clothes  all  the 
tabs  bearing  the  tailor's  name  had  been  removed,  and  also 
the  laundry  marks  from  my  underclothes.  There  was 
nothing  upon  me  that  could  possibly  establish  my  identity, 
though  in  my  pocket  was  found  five  thousand  pounds  in 
bank  notes — which  he  handed  to  me.  They  were  intact — 
the  same  notes  which  De  Gex  has  given  me  in  return  for 
the  false  death  certificate  I  had  signed. 

I  sat  utterly  aghast  at  the  story  of  my  discovery,  of 
the  many  attempts  made  to  establish  my  identity,  of  the 
visit  of  the  British  Vice-Consul  to  the  hospital,  and  of  his 
kindness  towards  me.  It  seemed  that  he  had  questioned 
me  closely,  but  I  had  told  an  utterly  fantastic  story. 

Indeed,  as  I  sat  there,  I  felt  that  neither  of  my  three 
interrogators  believed  a  single  word  of  the  truth  I  re- 
lated. Yet,  after  all,  I  was  not  revealing  the  whole 
truth. 

Certain  recollections  which  I  would  have  forgotten 
came  to  me.  I  had,  I  knew,  committed  a  very  serious 
criminal  offence  in  posing  as  a  medical  man  and  giving 
that  death  certificate.  Possibly  I  had  been  an  accessory 
to  some  great  crime — the  crime  of  murder! 

That  thought  held  me  anxious  and  filled  me  with  fear. 
The  Prefect  of  Police  seemed  entirely  dissatisfied  with 
my  explanation,  nevertheless  he  was  compelled  to  accept 
it,  and  an  hour  later  I  was  released  from  the  hospital. 
Before  leaving,  however,  I  was  shown  the  register  in 
which  I  had  signed  my  nnme  as  "  Henry  Aitken."  This 
I  erased  and  substituted  my  own  name. 

Then  I  thanked  the  tall,  thin  director  and  walked 
out  into  the  streets  of  St.  Malo  a  changed  man. 


CHAPTER  THE  THIRD 

WHO  WAS  GABRIELLE  ENGLEDUE? 

WHAT,  I  wondered,  had  happened  during  my  month 
of  unconsciousness?  I  wandered  into  a  cafe  and  sat 
pondering.  Afterwards  I  walked  about  the  town  aim- 
lessly and  rather  hungry.  My  own  clothes  had  been  re- 
turned to  me,  but  before  I  assumed  them  I  saw  that 
every  mark  of  identity  had  been  purposely  removed.  Even 
the  trousers  buttons — which  had  borne  the  name  of  my 
tailor,  a  reputable  firm  in  New  Bond  Street — had  been 
substituted. 

But  by  whom? 

On  the  following  afternoon  I  arrived  in  London  and 
drove  straight  to  Rivermead  Mansions.  I  entered  with 
my  latchkey,  and  on  glancing  around  saw  signs  that  my 
friend  Hambledon  was  still  living  there.  The  fire  in  the 
sitting-room  had  been  lit  by  the  "  Kaiserin "  ready  for 
his  home-coming,  and  everything  seemed  bright  and  cosy. 

It  was  then  about  four  o'clock,  and  Hambledon  would 
certainly  not  return  till  six.  Therefore  after  a  good 
wash,  a  shave,  and  a  clean  collar,  I  set  forth  for  Stret- 
ton  Street  to  interview  Oswald  De  Gex. 

The  house  in  the  dusk  was  just  as  I  recollected  it  on 
that  eventful  night  when  I  was  so  unexpectedly  called 
inside. 

I  rang  the  bell  three  times,  until  at  last  the  door  opened 
and  a  tall,  stalwart  man  appeared. 

I  inquired  for  Mr.  De  Gex,  whereupon  he  replied: 

48 


WHO  WAS  GABRIELLE  ENGLEDUE?       49 

"  Mr.  De  Gex  is  in  Italy,  sir." 

"  Oh !    When  did  he  leave  town?  " 

"  About  a  month  ago,  sir,"  the  man  answered. 

"  You  are,  I  suppose,  the  caretaker?  "  I  asked.  "  Now, 
I  wonder  if  you  will  do  me  a  very  great  favour.  You 
may  think  me  a  thief  or  a  burglar,"  I  laughed,  "  but  the 
fact  is  I  have  a  great  desire  to  see  Mr.  De  Gex's  house. 
I've  heard  so  much  about  its  beauties.  I  wonder  if  you 
would  show  me  the  drawing-room  and  the  library  ?  " 

The  man  hesitated,  saying: 

"  Well,  sir,  I've  no  orders  to  show  anyone  over.  Have 
you  a  card  ?  " 

I  at  once  produced  one  from  my  cigarette-case,  and 
added  that  I  was  a  personal  friend  of  the  millionaire's. 
He  read  my  name  and  looked  again  at  me.  I  assured 
him  that  I  was  not  prospecting  with  a  view  to  burglary. 

"  I'm  only  asking  you  to  do  me  a  favour,"  I  went  on, 
and  I  put  a  couple  of  Treasury  notes  into  hi^ind.  "  You 
can  inquire  about  me  at  my  office  to-mqirdKv,  if  you 
like.  They  will  tell  you,  I  expect,  that  I  hafgfbeen  awaj 
on  a  month's  leave." 

The  little  palm-oil  no  doubt  propitiated  hinf  for  he  in- 
vited me  in.  Then  he  switched  on  the  light  in  the  hall, 
and  as  he  did  so,  said : 

"  I  don't  know  what  trouble  I'd  get  into  with  the  mas- 
ter. He's  a  very  eccentric  man — as  you,  of  course, 
know." 

I  laughed  as  we  ascended  the  soft  carpeted  stairs.  I 
recollected  the  pattern. 

A  few  moments  later  we  were  in  the  library.  Yes. 
It  was  just  as  I  remembered  it.  Nothing  had  been  altered. 
There  was  the  writing-table  whereon  I  had  copied  out 
the  death  certificate ;  the  big  fire-place,  now  empty,  and 
the  deep  chair  in  which  I  had  sat. 


50    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

There  was  the  window,  too — the  window  which  I  had 
opened  in  order  to  gasp  for  air  after  that  suffocating 
odour  of  pot-pourri. 

As  I  stood  there — the  watchful  caretaker  with  his  eye 
upon  me,  wondering  no  doubt — I  again  took  in  every  de- 
tail. My  return  held  me  more  than  ever  puzzled. 

"  What  is  the  room  beyond  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh !  That's  the  mistress's  bedroom,"  he  replied.  "  A 
curious  fancy  to  have  her  room  next  to  the  library.  But 
it's  one  of  the  best  rooms  in  the  house.  The  master  hates 
London.  He  lives  all  the  time  in  Italy,  and  is  only  over 
here  just  for  a  week  or  two  in  spring,  and  a  week  or 
so  before  Christmas." 

"  I'd  like  to  see  that  room,"  I  said,  affecting  ignorance. 

He  took  me  in. 

In  a  second  I  saw  that  nothing  had  been  changed  since 
I  had  stood  there  at  the  death-bed  of  Gabrielle  Engledue 
a  little  over  a  month  ago. 

There  was  the  handsome  bed-chamber  with  its  inlaid 
cupboards,  its  great  dressing-table,  and  its  fine  bed — 
the  bed  upon  which  the  beautiful  young  woman  had  been 
lying  dead.  But  now  the  bed  had  been  re-made  and  its 
quilted  coverlet  of  pale  pink  silk  was  undisturbed. 

The  corpse  had  been  removed  and  buried  upon  my 
certificate ! 

I  sniffed  to  see  whether  I  could  detect  that  curious 
odour  of  pot-pourri,  but  in  vain.  The  air  seemed  fresh 
and  not  stifling  as  it  had  been  on  that  well-remembered 
night. 

Upon  a  side  table  stood  a  large  photograph  in  a  silver 
frame.  I  bent  to  look  at  it,  whereupon  the  caretaker 
said: 

"  That's  a  good  photograph  of  Mr.  De  Gex,  isn't  it, 
sir?" 


WHO  WAS  GABRIELLE  ENGLEDUE?       51 

"  Excellent,"  I  said,  for  it  was  a  really  fine  portrait. 
"  Does  your  mistress  come  over  from  Italy  often  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  and  she  brings  the  little  boy  over  with  her. 
She  is  frequently  here,  while  her  husband  stays  at  Fiesole. 
I  send  on  his  correspondence  every  day  to  Mr.  Henderson, 
his  secretary." 

I  stood  gazing  around  the  room.  Upon  that  bed  the 
beautiful  girl  lay  dead,  and  I  had  certified  the  cause  of 
her  death !  Yet  I  had,  later  on,  been  the  victim  of  some 
devil's  trick  of  which  I  knew  nothing. 

I  was  there  to  investigate.  Yet  though  I  questioned 
the  caretaker  very  closely,  I  confess  that  I  met  with 
little  success.  He  was  an  old  and  trusted  servant  of  the 
family.  Hence  to  nyfrajIpCfmy  inquiries  he  remained 

"  When  oo  you  expect  your  master  back?"  I  asked 
at  last. 

"  Oh,  not  for  another  six  months  or  so." 

"Where  is  Mrs.  DeGex?" 

"  Ah !  That  I  can't  quite  make  out,"  he  replied.  "  It's 
a  bit  of  a  mystery.  One  night  she  went  away  quite 
unexpectedly  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  nobody  knows 
where  she  is.  Her  husband  doesn't  know — or  pretends 
he  doesn't,"  he  said  with  a  knowing  grin. 

"  Then  she  has  disappeared !  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  That's  just  it.  And  they  were  always  such  a  devoted 
pair.  Little  Oswald  was  the  only  thing  she  lived  for." 

"  Lived !  "  I  echoed.  "  Then  do  you  think  she's  dead  ?  " 
I  asked  quickly. 

"Dead!  Why  should  we  think  so?  If  she  were,  we 
should  surely  have  seen  it  in  the  papers  ?  " 

"  But  your  master  has  very  funny  fits  sometimes,"  I 
said.  "  I've  heard  about  his  eccentric  ways." 

"  Of  course  he  has.    He's  overburdened  with  money — 


52    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

that's  what  it  is.  Mr.  Henderson  looks  after  all  his 
affairs.  Mr.  De  Gex  has  no  regard  for  money.  Mr. 
Henderson  attends  to  everything.  Phew !  I  wish  I  were 
a  millionaire !  I  find  it  hard  enough  nowadays  to  pay 
the  butcher  and  baker  and  make  both  ends  meet." 

"  And  so  do  I,"  I  said,  laughing.  "  But,  tell  me,  where 
is  the  young  lady  who  used  to  live  here — Mr.  De  Gex's 
niece  ?  " 

"  His  niece !    I  don't  think  he  has  a  niece." 

"  Miss  Gabrielle  Engledue." 

"  Who's  she  ?  I've  never  heard  of  her,"  was  the  man's 
reply. 

I  described  her,  but  he  shook  his  head. 

"  To  my  knowledge  Mr.  De  Gex  hasn't  got  a  niece," 
he  said. 

"  Were  you  here  five  weeks  ago  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"Five  weeks  ago?  No.  I  and  my  wife  went  away 
down  to  Swanage  to  see  her  sister.  The  master  gave  us 
a  fortnight's  holiday.  Why  ?  " 

"  Oh — nothing,"  I  replied.  "  I  merely  inquired  as  I 
want  to  clear  up  a  mystery — that's  all." 

"What  mystery?" 

"  The  mystery  of  Miss  Engledue — your  master's  niece," 
I  answered. 

"  But  I've  never  heard  of  any  niece,"  he  said. 

"A  young  lady  of  about  twenty-one  with  dark  hair 
and  eyes,  and  a  beautiful  complexion,"  I  said. 

But  the  old  servant's  mind  was  a  blank. 

"  Of  course,  sir,  many  people  come  to  visit  Mr.  De 
Qex.  Horton  would  know  them,  but  I  don't.  When 
the  master  is  in  town  the  servants  are  here,  and  I'm  down 
in  Cornwall  at  the  castle." 

"  Then  you  are  only  here  as  caretaker  when  the  family 
is  away  ?  " 


WHO  WAS  GABRIELLE  ENGLEDUE?       53 

"  That's  it,  sir,"  he  said.  "  But  what  is  the  mystery 
about  this  young  lady  ?  You  said  you  knew  Mr.  De  Gex, 
and  yet  you  wanted  to  look  over  the  house." 

"  Yes,"  I  responded  with  a  laugh.  "  I  have  my  own 
object — to  clear  up  the  mystery  of  Mr.  De  Gex's  niece." 

"  Well,  as  far  as  I  know,  he  has  no  niece !  But  you 
could  easily  find  out,  I  suppose ! " 

The  man  was  evidently  no  fool. 

"  Of  course  I  don't  know  who  comes  here,  or  who 
stays  here  when  the  family  is  in  town,"  he  went  on.  "  I 
simply  come  up  and  look  after  the  place  with  my  wife." 

"  Then  you  were  away  in  Swanage  during  the  first 
week  of  November  ?  "  I  asked  very  seriously. 

"  Yes,  we  went  down  on  the  last  day  of  October,  and 
we  were  back  here  in  the  middle  of  November.  My  wife's 
sister  was  very  ill,  and  her  husband  didn't  expect  her 
to  live.  So  I  remember  the  dates  only  too  well." 

"  Then  the  family  were  in  town  on  the  date  I  mention." 

He  considered  a  moment. 

"  Oh !    Of  course  they  were.    They  must  have  been." 

I  glanced  again  around  the  room,  full  of  amazement 
and  wonder. 

The  man's  failure  to  give  me  any  details  regarding  the 
extremely  attractive  girl  who  had  died  upon  his  mistress's 
bed  held  me  gripped  in  uncertainty.  The  mystery  was 
even  more  puzzling  now  that  I  had  started  to  investigate. 

As  I  stood  in  that  room  a  thousand  strange  reflections 
flashed  across  my  mind. 

Why  had  I,  a  mere  passer-by,  been  called  in  so  sud- 
denly to  be  taken  into  the  intimacy  of  the  millionaire's 
household?  Was  it  by  mere  accident  that  I  had  been 
invited  in,  or  was  it  by  careful  design?  I  had  lost  five 
thousand  pounds  by  foolish  speculation,  and  yet  I  had 
regained  it  by  being  party  to  a  criminal  offence. 


54    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

Again,  who  was  the  pretty,  dark-haired  girl  who  had 
first  uttered  those  hysterical  screams,  and  then,  while 
fully  dressed,  had  died  upon  Mrs.  De  Gex's  bed?  Fur- 
ther, if  the  mysterious  dead  girl  had  been  niece  of  the 
millionaire  surely  my  friend  the  caretaker  would  have 
known  her? 

I  confess  that  I  now  became  more  bewildered  than 
ever. 

That  a  girl  named  Gabrielle  Engledue — whoever  she 
might  have  been — had  died,  and  that  I  had  forged  a 
certificate  showing  the  cause  of  death  were  hard,  solid 
facts.  But  the  mystery  of  it  all  was  complete. 

That  I  had  been  the  victim  of  some  very  carefully  pre- 
pared and  subtle  plot  was  apparent,  and  it  had  become 
my  own  affair  to  investigate  it  and  bring  to  justice  those 
who  were  responsible  for  the  poor  girl's  death. 

Time  after  time  I  questioned  the  caretaker  regarding 
the  existence  of  the  millionaire's  niece,  Miss  Engledue, 
but  it  was  plain  to  me  that  he  had  no  knowledge  of  any 
such  person. 

"  Was  there  not  a  death  in  this  house — about  five  weeks 
ago?  "  I  asked. 

"  Death  ?  "  he  echoed.  "  Why,  no,  sir.  You  must  be 
dreaming.  If  there  had  been  a  death  while  I  was  away, 
either  my  wife  or  I  would  certainly  have  /heard  about 
it."  And  he  looked  suspiciously  at  me  as^hough  he 
believed  I  had  taken  leave  of  my  senses. 

An  hour  later  I  was  back  at  Rivermead  Mansions, 
where  Harry,  for  whom  I  had  left  a  note,  was  awaiting 
me. 

As  we  sat  together  before  a  cheerful  fire  I  told  him 
of  my  lapse  into  unconsciousness,  of  my  loss  of  memory, 
but  I  did  not  explain  all  that  had  happened,  for,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  I  had  no  desire  that  anyone  should  know 


WHO  WAS  GABRIELLE  ENGLEDUE?       55 

of  my  guilt  in  posing  as  a  medical  man  and  thus  becoming 
implicated  in  the  mysterious  death  of  Gabrielle  Engledue. 

My  friend  sat  and  heard  me,  smoking  his  pipe  in 
silence. 

"  Extraordinary !  "  he  said.  "  You  ought  to  go  to 
the  police,  Garfield.  You  were  doped — without  a  doubt. 
But  what  was  the  motive?  I've  been  very  worried  about 
you.  When  you  had  been  missing  a  week  they  sent  over 
from  your  office,  and  I  then  went  to  the  police  at  Hammer- 
smith. They  made  every  inquiry  and  circulated  your 
description.  But  they  could  discover  no  trace  of  you. 
I'll  have  to  report  that  you've  been  found." 

"  Yes,  do  so  to-morrow  morning,"  I  urged.  "  I  don't 
want  the  police  following  me  about— -thank  you,"  and 
I  laughed,  rather  grimly  perhaps. 

During  the  hours  that  I  lay  awake  that  night  a  thought 
suddenly  crossed  my  mind — an  idea  which  next  day  I 
promptly  put  into  execution. 

I  went  to  Somerset  House,  and  there  searched  the 
register  of  deaths.  At  first  my  efforts  were  in  vain,  but 
at  last  I  discovered  what  I  sought,  namely  an  entry  that 
a  young  woman  named  Gabrielle  Engledue,  single,  aged 
twenty-one,  of  unknown  parentage,  had  died  of  heart 
trouble  at  No.  9  Stretton  Street,  Park  Lane,  on  the  night 
of  November  the  Seventh,  the  body  having  been  cre- 
mated five  days  later ! 

I  pursued  my  inquiries  in  various  quarters  that  day, 
and  further  discovered  that  the  funeral  expenses  had 
been  defrayed  by  some  person  named  Moroni.  There 
had  been  only  two  mourners,  of  whom  Moroni  had  been 
one. 

Still  feeling  very  ill,  I  was  compelled — after  reporting 
to  the  office — to  remain  at  home  for  the  three  days  which 
followed. 


56  THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

To  the  two  heads  of  the  firm  I  fear  the  story  that  I 
told  must  have  appeared  somewhat  lame,  yet  they  ex- 
hibited no  disbelief,  but  on  the  contrary  sympathized 
with  me  in  my  strange  and  unaccountable  affliction. 

In  a  drawer  in  my  bedroom  lay  the  five  thousand  pounds 
in  bank  notes  just  as  Oswald  De  Gex  had  given  to  me. 
I,  of  course,  said  nothing  of  them  to  Harry.  But  once 
or  twice  I  drew  them  from  the  old  envelope  in  which  I 
had  placed  them,  and  turned  them  over  in  wonder. 

I  decided  that  they  would  be  safer  in  the  bank,  but  I 
hesitated  to  place  them  to  my  credit,  so  I  at  last  put  them 
away  in  the  bottom  of  an  old  writing-case  which  had 
belonged  to  my  father,  resolving  to  try  to  forget  their 
existence. 

Though  perhaps  I  did  at  last  manage  to  forget  the 
bribe,  yet  I  could  not  put  from  myself  the  memory  of 
that  beautiful  girl,  the  cause  of  whose  death  I  had 
certified.  The  perfect  countenance  haunted  me  con- 
stantly. In  my  dreams  I  often  saw  her  alive  and  well. 
The  marvellous  face  was  turned  towards  me,  with  merry, 
dancing  dark  eyes  and  a  tantalizing  smile — an  enticing 
smile  of  mystery. 

At  last  I  resolved  to  go  and  face  Oswald  De  Gex,  so 
with  that  object  I  one  morning  left  Charing  Cross  for 
Florence.  Travelling  by  the  Rome  express  from  the 
Gare  de  Lyon,  in  Paris,  I  changed  at  Pisa,  and  at  last, 
as  the  "  snail  train,"  as  it  is  known  in  Italy  on  account  of 
its  slowness,  wound  slowly  up  the  beautiful  valley  of  the 
Arno,  the  old  red  roofs  and  domes  of  Firenze  La  Bella 
came  into  view. 

The  winter  morning  was  sunny  and  brilliant  with  a 
clear  blue  sky,  and  as  I  drove  through  the  streets,  past 
the  marble-built  Du6mo  with  its  wonderful  campanile, 


WHO  WAS  GABRIELLE  ENGLEDUE?       57 

the  city  was  agog,  for  it  happened  to  be  the  festa  of  the 
Befana. 

I  had  left  my  bag  at  the  station,  and  the  taxi  took  me 
to  Fiesole,  the  high-up  little  town  outside  which  lived 
the  "  rich  Inglese  " — Oswald  De  Gex. 

Long  before  we  arrived  the  driver  pointed  out  the  huge, 
mediaeval  country  house  situated  among  the  olives  and 
vines,  and  commanding  extensive  views  over  Florence 
and  the  Arno,  with  the  blue  mountains  beyond.  It  was 
a  great  white  house  with  red  tiles  and  overhanging  eaves, 
palatial  indeed  in  its  dimensions,  and  for  centuries  the 
summer  residence  of  the  head  of  the  great  family  of 
Clementini,  from  whom  the  English  millionaire  had 
bought  it  fifteen  years  before,  together  with  all  its  pic- 
tures, tapestries,  and  antiques,  with  the  farms  adjoining. 

On  entering  the  great  gates  of  seventeenth  century 
wrought  iron,  we  found  ourselves  in  a  glorious  old-world 
Italian  garden,  with  a  wonderful  marble  fountain,  and  a 
good  deal  of  antique  statuary,  and  then  driving  through 
the  extensive  grounds — past  a  lake — I  at  last  rang  the 
bell. 

Quickly  the  great  iron-studded  door  was  opened  by 
an  elderly  Englishman  in  livery,  to  whom  I  gave  my  card, 
and  asked  to  see  his  master. 

The  man,  without  hesitation,  ushered  me  through  a 
huge  marble-built  hall,  with  a  wonderfully  frescoed  ceil- 
ing, into  a  large  room  hung  with  priceless  tapestry,  and 
furnished  with  old  gilt  chairs  covered  with  faded  green 
silk  damask. 

I,  however,  took  very  little  note  of  my  surroundings, 
so  anxious  was  I  to  again  meet  my  host  of  Stretton  Street 
face  to  face. 

Not  long  did  I  have  to  wait  before  the  door  opened, 
and  he  stood  before  me. 


58          THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  Well,  Mr.  Gar/ield  ? "  he  asked  quietly,  as  he  ad- 
vanced. "  To  what  do  I  owe  the  honour  of  this  visit?" 

"  Ah !  "  I  cried.  "  Then  you  recollect  me,  I  see !  You 
know  my  name?" 

"  Yes.  It  was  upon  your  card,"  was  his  quiet  reply. 
"  But,  forgive  me,  I  do  not  recollect  ever  having  met  you 
before ! " 

I  held  my  breath.  I  tried  to  speak,  but  for  the  moment 
words  failed  me,  so  angry  was  I  at  his  cleverly  pretended 
ignorance  and  flat  denial. 


CHAPTER  THE  FOURTH 

FACING    THE    MUSIC 

"  Do  you  seriously  mean  to  say  that  you  have  no  knowl- 
edge of  me?"  I  demanded  angrily,  looking  the  million- 
aire straight  in  the  face. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  replied.  "  I  seriously  mean  what  I  say. 
But,  tell  me,"  he  demanded  resentfully,  "  why  are  you 
here  to  claim  acquaintance  with  me  ?  " 

"  Do  you  really  deny  you  have  ever  seen  me  before?" 
I  asked,  astounded  at  his  barefaced  pretence  of  ignorance. 

"  Never  to  my  knowledge,"  replied  the  sallow-faced 
man  whose  countenance  I  so  well  recollected. 

"  Then  you  forget  a  certain  night  not  so  long  ago  when 
I  was  called  into  your  house  in  Stretton  Street,  and  you 
chatted  confidentially  with  me — about  your  wife  and  your 
little  son?" 

"  My  dear  sir!  "  he  cried.  "  Whatever  do  you  mean? 
I  have  never  seen  you  at  Stretton  Street ;  and  I  have 
certainly  never  discussed  my  wife  with  you!" 

I  stood  aghast  at  his  continued  denial. 

"  But  you  did,"  I  asserted.  "  And  there  was  another 
matter — a  matter  about  which  I  must  question  you — the 


"  Ah !  I  see !  "  he  interrupted.  "  You're  here  to  black- 
mail me — eh?  Well — let  me  hear  the  worst,"  and  across 
his  rather  Oriental  face  there  spread  a  mocking,  half 
amused  smile. 

59 


60    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  I  am  not  a  blackmailer !  "  I  protested  angrily.  "  I 
want  no  money — only  to  know  the  truth." 

"Of  what?" 

"  Well,  the  truth  concerning  the  death  of  Miss  Gabrielle 
Engledue." 

"  The  death  of  Miss  Gabrielle  Engledue ! "  he  cried. 
"  I  really  don't  understand  you,  Mr. — Mr.  Garfield !  " 

At  mention  of  the  name  I  saw  that  he  started,  but  al- 
most imperceptibly.  The  man  was  certainly  a  most  per- 
fect actor,  and  his  protestations  of  ignorance  were,  in- 
deed, well-feigned. 

"  Then  you  actually  deny  all  knowledge  of  the  young 
lady!"  I  said. 

"  I  know  no  lady  of  that  name." 

"  But  she  is  your  niece." 

"  I  have  only  one  niece — Lady  Shalford." 

"And  how  old  is  she?" 

He  hesitated  for  a  few  moments.    Then  he  answered. 

"  Oh !  She  must  be  about  thirty-five.  She  married 
Shalford  about  ten  years  ago,  and  she  lives  at  Wicken- 
ham  Grange,  near  Malton,  in  Yorkshire." 

"  And  you  have  no  other  niece  ?  " 

"  None — I  assure  you.  But  why  do  you  ask  such  a 
question  ?  You  puzzle  me." 

"  Not  more  than  you  puzzle  me,  Mr.  De  Gex,"  I  replied 
with  pique.  "  It  would  be  so  much  easier  if  you  would 
be  frank  and  open  with  me." 

"  My  dear  sir,  you  seem  to  me  to  have  a  bee  in  your 
bonnet  about  something  or  other.  Tell  me,  now,  what 
is  it?" 

"  Simply  that  you  know  me  very  well,  but  you  deny 
it.  You  never  thought  that  I  should  make  this  unwelcome 
reappearance." 

"  Your  appearance  here  as  a  mad-brained  person  is 


FACING  THE  MUSIC  61 

certainly  unwelcome,"  he  retorted.  "  You  first  tell  me 
that  you  visited  me  at  Stretton  Street.  Well,  you  may 
have  been  in  the  servants'  quarters  for  all  I  know,  and 


"  Please  do  not  be  insulting !  "  I  cried  angrily. 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  offering  you  an  insult,  sir, 
but  your  attitude  is  so  very  extraordinary!  You  speak 
of  a  girl  named  Engledue — that  was  the  name,  I  think — 
and  allege  that  she  is  my  niece.  Why  ?  " 

"  Because  the  young  lady  is  dead — she  died  under  most 
suspicious  circumstances.  And  you  know  all  about  it !  " 
I  said  bluntly. 

"  Oh !  perhaps  you  will  allege  that  I  am  a  murderer 
next!"  he  laughed,  as  though  enjoying  the  joke. 

"  It  is  no  laughing  matter ! "  I  cried  in  fury. 

"  Why  not  ?  I  find  all  your  allegations  most  amusing," 
and  across  his  dark  handsome  face  there  spread  a  good- 
humoured  smile. 

His  was  a  face  that  I  could  never  forget.  At  one 
moment  its  expression  was  kindly  and'  full  of  bonhomie, 
the  next  it  was  hard  and  unrelenting — the  face  of  an 
eccentric  criminal. 

"  To  me  they  are  the  reverse  of  amusing,"  I  said.  "  I 
allege  that  on  the  night  of  Wednesday,  November  the 
seventh  last,  I  was  passing  your  house  in  Stretton  Street, 
Park  Lane,  when  your  man,  Horton,  invited  me  inside, 
and — well,  well — I  need  not  describe  what  occurred  there, 
for  you  recollect  only  too  vividly — without  a  doubt.  But 
what  I  demand  to  know  is  why  you  asked  me  in,  and 
what  happened  to  me  after  you  gave  me  that  money  ?  " 

"Money!  I  gave  you  money  ?"  he  cried.  "Why,  man 
alive,  you're  dreaming!  You  must  be!" 

"  I'm  not  dreaming  at  all !    It  is  a  hard  fact.    Indeed, 


62          THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

I  still  have  the  money — five  thousand  pounds  in  bank 
notes." 

Oswald  De  Gex  looked  at  me  strangely.  His  sallow 
face  coloured  slightly,  and  his  lips  compressed.  I  had 
cornered  him.  A  little  further  firmness,  and  he  would 
no  doubt  admit  that  we  had  met  at  Stretton  Street. 

"  Look  here,  Mr.  Garfield,"  he  said  in  a  changed  voice. 
"  This  is  beyond  a  joke.  You  now  tell  me  that  I  pre- 
sented you  with  five  thousand  pounds." 

"  I  do — and  I  repeat  it." 

"  But  why  should  I  give  you  this  sum  ?  " 

"  Because  I  assisted  you  in  the  commission  of  a 
crime." 

"  That's  a  lie !  "  he  declared  vehemently.  "  Forgive 
me  for  saying  so,  but  I  can  only  think  that  you  are  not 
quite  in  your  right  mind." 

"  I  have  not  been  in  my  right  mind  for  a  month  or 
more — thanks  to  your  deep  plotting,"  I  retorted  sharply. 
"  Further,  I  am  telling  the  truth — as  I  shall  later  on  tell 
it  before  a  court  of  law.  I  intend  to  solve  the  mystery 
of  the  death  of  Gabrielle  Engledue." 

"  Well — I  will  not  hinder  you,"  he  laughed  grimly. 

"You  mean  that  you  will  not  assist  me?" 

"  I  mean  that  I  have  no  knowledge  of  any  such  person ; 
nor  have  I  any  knowledge  of  you,"  he  said.  "  A  perfect 
stranger,  you  come  here,  present  your  card,  and  at  once 
start  a  series  of  most  serious  allegations  against  me, 
the  chief  of  them  being  that  I  gave  you  five  thousand 
pounds  for  some  assistance  which  you  refuse  to  describe." 

"  If  I  tell  you,  you  will  only  deny  it,  Mr.  De  Gex," 
I  exclaimed  bitterly.  "  So  what  is  the  use  ?  " 

"  None.  In  fact  I  don't  see  that  any  object  is  to  be 
gained  in  prolonging  this  interview,"  was  his  quick  re- 
tort. "  If,  as  you  say,  I  gave  you  five  thousand — which 


FACING  THE  MUSIC  63 

I  certainly  never  did — then  what  more  can  you  want?  I 
however,  suspect  that  the  five  thousand  exists  only  in  your 
own  imagination." 

"  But  I  have  the  sum  intact — in  a  drawer  at  my  home 
in  London." 

"  It  would  be  of  interest  to  see  it.  Are  they  the  same 
notes  which  you  say  I  gave  you  ?  " 

"  The  same,"  I  answered,  and  then  I  went  on  to  tell 
him  how  I  had  awakened  to  find  myself  in  St.  Malo,  and 
how  the  French  police  had  taken  possession  of  the  money 
found  upon  me. 

"  Ah !  "  he  exclaimed  at  last.  "  It  all  seems  quite  clear 
now.  You've  had  a  bad  illness,  my  dear  fellow !  Your 
brain  has  become  unbalanced,  and  you  are  now  subject 
to  hallucinations.  I  regret  my  hard  words,  Mr.  Garlield," 
he  added  in  a  kindly  tone.  "  I  also  regret  that  your  men- 
tal state  is  what  it  is." 

"  I  desire  no  sympathy !  "  I  protested,  raising  my  voice 
angrily.  "  All  I  want  to  know  is  the  truth." 

"  I  have  already  told  you  that,  as  far  as  I  am  per- 
sonally concerned." 

"  No.  You  have  denied  everything,  and  now  you  try 
to  treat  me  as  one  demented !  "  I  declared  in  a  fury.  "  The 
existence  of  the  bank  notes  you  gave  me  are  sufficient 
evidence  against  you." 

"  I  think  not.  First,  I  doubt  if  they  exist  anywhere 
save  in  your  imagination ;  secondly,  if  they  do,  then 
someone  else  may  have  given  them  to  you." 

"  You  did.  I  would  recognize  you  among  ten  thousand 
men.  On  the  night  in  question  you  wore  a  dinner  jacket, 
and  now  you  are  in  grey.  That  is  all  the  difference." 

"  Well,  have  it  your  own  way,"  he  replied  smiling, 
though  I  could  see  that  he  had  become  palpably  perturbed 
by  my  allegations.  Whatever  had  been  administered  to 


64    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

me — some  dope  or  other,  no  doubt — it  had  been  intended 
that  I  should  be  cast  adrift  on  the  Continent  as  a  semi- 
imbecile. 

It  was  that  fact  which  maddened  me.  The  poor  girl 
might  not  have  been  his  niece,  of  course,  but  whoever 
she  had  been,  this  man  had  had  some  very  strange  and 
distinct  motive  in  getting  rid  of  her. 

What  it  was  I  had  vowed  to  discover. 

It  was  apparent  that  De  Gex  was  anxious  to  get  rid 
of  me.  Indeed,  as  we  stood  together  in  that  fine  old 
room,  across  the  marble  floor  of  which  strayed  long 
beams  of  sunlight,  the  door  opened  and  a  pretty  woman 
came  in.  She  was  dressed  to  go  out,  and  asked : 

"Will  you  belong,  dear?" 

It  was  the  beautiful  Mrs.  De  Gex !  In  an  instant  I 
recognized  her  by  the  many  photographs  I  had  seen  in 
the  picture  papers. 

"  No.  I'll  be  with  you  in  a  minute,  dear.  Is  the  car 
there  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It's  been  there  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  if  we  don't 
go  now  we  shall  be  late  in  meeting  Hylda  at  the  station," 
she  said,  glancing  at  me  with  undisguised  annoyance. 

Then  she  left,  closing  the  door  after  her. 

Across  my  brain  ran  strange  thoughts.  I  recollected 
his  words  in  Stretton  Street  regarding  his  spiteful  wife 
when  I  had  been  called  in  to  listen  to  his  matrimonial 
troubles.  But  husband  and  wife  now  appeared  to  be  on 
quite  amicable  and  even  affectionate  terms. 

I  confess  that  I  was  still  bewildered,  as  you,  my  reader, 
in  whom  I  am  here  reposing  confidence,  would,  I  believe, 
have  been,  had  you  found  yourself  in  similar  circum- 
stances. 

"  I  see  that  your  wife  is  eager  to  go  out,"  I  said.    "  But 


FACING  THE  MUSIC  65 

I  fear  I  must,  before  I  go,  press  for  a  direct  answer  to  my 
questions,  Mr.  De  Gex." 

"  My  dear  sir,  I  have  answered  them.  What  more  can 
I  say  ?  "  he  exclaimed  with  affected  dismay. 

"  A  very  great  deal.    You  can  tell  me  the  truth." 

"  I  have,"  he  snapped.  "  Who  this  girl  Engledue  is  I 
have  not  a  ghost  of  an  idea.  Are  you  certain  she  is 
dead?" 

"  Positive.  I  saw  her  lying  dead  in  the  room  which 
adjoins  your  library." 

"  What !  My  wife's  room !  "  he  cried.  "  Oh,  come— 
let  us  finish  all  this  silly  talk." 

"  When  you  are,  at  least,  frank  with  me !  " 

"  I  am." 

"  But  do  you  deny  that  the  young  lady,  Gabrielle  Engle- 
due, died  there  ?  Do  you  not  recollect  that  we  both  stood 
at  her  death-bed  ?  " 

"  Don't  talk  such  piffle !  "  De  Gex  snapped,  no  doubt 
believing  in  the  end  that  he  would  convince  me  of^  his 
ignorance  of  the  whole  tragedy. 

Whatever  had  happened  on  that  November  nigh*  was, 
no  doubt,  to  the  distinct  advantage  of  the  wealthy  man 
who  stood  before  me.  Yet  I  was  faced  with  a  difficulty. 
He  had  uttered  that  most  ugly  word  "  blackmail."  Sup- 
pose he  called  the  police  and  accused  me  of  it !  His  word 
— the  word  of  a  wealthy  financier — would,  no  doubt,  be 
taken  by  a  jury  before  my  own ! 

On  the  other  hand,  I  had  up  my  sleeve  a  trump-card — 
the  death  and  cremation  of  the  mysterious  Gabrielle 
Engledue.  Probably  the  poor  victim  was  poisoned — 
hence  the  object  of  her  cremation  to  remove  all  traces 
of  it !  Yet,  opposed  to  that,  there  still  remained  my  own 
most  serious  offence  of  posing  as  a  medical  man  and  giv- 
ing a  forged  certificate  concerning  the  cause  of  death. 


66          THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

Yes.  I  was  only  too  keenly  alive  to  my  own  very 
precarious  position.  Yet  I  was  emboldened  by  De  Gex's 
agitation,  and  the  pallor  in  his  sallow  cheeks. 

He  was,  no  doubt,  feeling  very  uneasy.  And  even 
a  millionaire  can  feel  uneasy  when  faced  with  a  witness 
of  his  own  offence. 

"  Mr.  De  Gex,  I  am  not  talking  rubbish,"  I  said  in  all 
seriousness.  "  You  appear  to  forget  that  night  when  your 
wife  deserted  your  son  in  Westbourne  Grove,  and  then 
laughed  at  you  over  the  telephone  from  a  public  call- 
office." 

He  looked  at  me  very  straight  with  those  deep-set  eyes 
of  his. 

"  Really,"  he  exclaimed.  "  That  is  quite  a  new  feature 
in  the  affair.  Let  me  see,  what  did  I  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Your  man,  Horton,  invited  me,  a  mere  passer-by, 
into  your  house  in  Stretton  Street.  He  said  you  were 
very  much  worried  and  asked  if  I  would  meet  you.  Why? 
I  cannot  imagine.  When  we  met  you  were  very  vague 
in  your  statements,  and  at  first  I  could  not  for  the  life 
of  me  discover  why  I  had  been  asked  to  meet  you.  But 
soon  -you  confided  to  me  the  fact  that  your  wife,  being 
spiteful  towards  you,  had  abandoned  your  heir,  little 
Oswald,  in  Westbourne  Grove,  and  had  then  rung  up  from 
a  call-office  telling  you  to  find  him." 

"  Bosh !  My  dear  fellow !  Bosh !  "  was  his  reply. 
"  First,  you  were  never  there ;  and  secondly,  I've  never 
complained  of  my  wife's  behaviour  to  anyone;  certainly 
not  to  a  stranger." 

"  You  did  to  me.    I  certainly  am  not  dreaming." 

"  But  you  have  already  admitted  that  you've  been  in 
hospital  in  St.  Malo  suffering  from  loss  of  memory." 

"  My  memory  has  now  fortunately  been  restored,"  I 
replied. 


FACING  THE  MUSIC  67 

"  Distorted — without  a  doubt.  You  would  never  travel 
all  the  way  from  London  to  relate  these  absolutely  silly 
stories  to  me  if  you  were  in  your  right  senses,  my  dear 
Mr.  Garfield,"  he  said. 

"  They're  not  silly  stories,  but  hard,  indisputable  facts !  " 
I  declared  resentfully. 

The  millionaire  had  assumed  an  air  of  nonchalance, 
for  leaning  against  a  big  old  buhl  table  he  took  out  a 
cigarette  from  his  gold  case  and  slowly  lit  it,  after  which 
he  said: 

"  You  must,  I  think,  really  excuse  me.  We  have  to 
go  down  into  Florence  to  meet  my  sister-in-law,  who  is 
coming  from  London.  I'm  afraid,  Mr.  Garfield,  that  I 
cannot  help  you  any  further." 

"  You  mean  you  won't !  " 

"  Not  at  all.  If  I  knew  anything  of  this  young  lady 
who,  you  said,  died  in  my  wife's  bedroom  in  Stretton 
Street,  and  at  whose  bedside  you  and  I  stood  together,  I 
would  tell  you.  But  I  really  don't." 

He  tossed  his  cigarette  hastily  out  of  the  open  window. 

"  No,"  he  added.  "  I  won't  hear  any  more.  I  haven't 
the  time  or  the  inclination  to  listen  to  the  wanderings  of 
any  insane  person.  I've  had  enough !  " 

"  And  so  have  I !  "  I  retorted.  "  You  are  trying  to 
mislead  me  by  affecting  ignorance  of  my  very  existence, 
but  I  don't  intend  that  you  shall  escape ! "  I  added,  again 
raising  my  voice. 

"  Hush,  please,"  he  said  in  a  calmer  tone.  "  My  wife 
may  overhear." 

"  I  don't  care !  "  I  cried  in  desperation.  "  You  never 
dreamed  that  I  should  arise  against  you,  as  I  have.  You 
are  not  fair  towards  me !  If  you  revealed  to  me  in  con- 
fidence the  reason  you  gave  me  that  bribe  of  five  thousand 


68    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

pounds,  then  I,  on  my  part,  would  have  played  the  straight 
game." 

"  My  dear  sir,  play  whatever  game  you  like.  It  is  im- 
material to  me  whether  straight  or  crooked.  I  don't  know 
anything  about  what  you  have  been  talking,  and  you  have 
only  wasted  your  breath  and  got  out  of  temper  for  noth- 
ing." 

Again  I  looked  him  straight  in  the  face.  There  was 
no  doubt  that  the  strain  of  his  clever  denials  was  telling 
upon  him.  His  dark  complexion  had  paled;  in  his  eyes 
there  was  a  fierce,  haunted  look  as  that  of  a  man  who  was 
straining  every  effort  to  remain  calm  under  the  gravest 
circumstances. 

"  I  have  no  game  to  play,"  I  declared.  "  I  only  de- 
mand the  truth.  Why  was  I  invited  into  your  house  in 
Stretton  Street  to  be  present  as  witness  at  the  poor  girl's 
death?" 

"  I  don't  know.  Find  out  for  yourself,  my  dear  Mr. 
Garfield,"  laughed  the  rich  man.  "  I  have  no  time  to 
discuss  this  silly  affair  further.  I'm  sorry  you  have 
troubled  to  come  out  from  London  to  see  me.  But  really 
yours  has  been  a  fool's  errand,"  and  he  turned  towards 
the  door. 

"  A  fool's  errand !  "  I  echoed.  "  I  am  no  fool  and  my 
errand  is  in  deep  earnestness.  You  may  try  to  befool  me, 
but  I  tell  you  that  I  will  leave  no  stone  unturned  to  solve 
the  problem  which  you  al'one  can  explain." 

"  Well,  get  along  with  your  work,"  he  laughed  in  open 
defiance.  "  I  have  no  further  time  to  waste,"  and  glanc- 
ing at  his  watch  he  opened  the  door  and  abruptly  left 
me. 


CHAPTER  THE  FIFTH 

THE  CITY  OF  THE  LILY 

FULL  of  indignation  I  remained  for  a  few  further  mo- 
ments in  that  wonderful  old  room,  the  room  of  faded 
tapestries  with  the  marvellous  painted  ceiling. 

From  the  window  was  afforded  a  glorious  view  over 
the  gardens  where,  even  in  winter,  tangled  masses  of 
flowers  ran  riot,  while  beyond  lay  the  picturesque  old 
red-roofed  Tuscan  city.  Fiesole  is  distinctly  a  village 
of  the  wealthy,  for  the  several  colossal  villas,  built  in 
the  days  of  the  Medici  and  even  before,  are  now  owned 
by  rich  foreigners,  many  of  them  English. 

Oswald  De  Gex  was  one  of  them. 

He  had  certainly  foiled  me.  I  gritted  my  teeth  and 
vowed  that,  come  what  might,  I  would  compel  him  to 
accept  the  inevitable  and  reveal  to  me  the  truth.  I  left 
the  room  and  found  my  way  alone  across  the  great 
marble  entrance  hall,  and  out  to  where  my  taxi  awaited 
me. 

I  drove  back  to  Florence,  where,  at  the  station,  I 
obtained  my  bag,  and  then  went  to  the  Savoy  Hotel  in 
the  Piazza.  Vittorio  Emanuele,  where  I  engaged  a  room. 

For  a  long  time  I  sat  at  my  window  gazing  down  upon 
the  busy  square  below,  one  of  the  centres  of  Florentine 
life.  The  bell  of  the  Duomo  was  ringing,  the  shops  were 
mostly  closed,  and  all  Florence  was  out  in  the  streets,  it 
being  the  Festa  of  the  Befana,  one  of  the  greatest  of  all 
the  ever-recurring  festas  of  Florence.  Street  urchins 
were  parading  the  thoroughfares  with  horns  and  wildly 

69 


70          THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

shouting,  and  there  was  an  exchange  of  presents  on  every 
hand.  At  the  Befana  everyone  in  Firenze  goes  mad  with 
good  intentions. 

The  artistic  side  of  the  ancient  Lily  City  did  not  in- 
terest me.  I  knew  it  of  old.  I  had  strolled  on  the  Lung 
Arno,  I  had  long  ago  with  my  father  on  a  winter  tour 
looked  into  the  little  shops  of  the  coral  and  pearl  mer- 
chants on  the  Ponte  Vecchio,  and  I  had  taken  my  aperatif 
at  Doney's  or  at  Giacosa's.  I  was  no  stranger  in  Flor- 
ence. My  mind  was  fully  occupied  by  the  deep  mystery 
of  Gabrielle  Engledue's  death,  and  of  the  millionaire's 
flat  denial  that  we  had  ever  met  before. 

As  I  sat  gazing  across  the  square  my  anger  and  in- 
dignation increased.  That  De  Gex  should  have  dared 
to  affect  such  entire  ignorance  surpassed  belief. 

I  tried  to  form  a  scheme  for  further  action,  but  could 
think  of  no  way  by  which  to  force  him  to  acknowledge 
our  previous  meeting.  That  the  beautiful  girl  had  died, 
and  that  her  body  had  been  cremated  upon  the  false 
certificate  I  had  given,  was  beyond  all  doubt.  But  what 
had  been  the  rich  man's  motive? 

How  very  perturbed  and  anxious  he  was  I  had  noticed, 
though  he  put  such  a  very  brave  face  upon  it  and  ap- 
peared so  imperturbable.  That  he  could  treat  such  a 
serious  matter  as  a  joke  utterly  amazed  me.  Neverthe- 
less, I  recollected  that  he  had  long  earned  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  highly  eccentric. 

That  afternoon  I  spent  in  wandering  about  the  sunny 
streets  of  Florence.  In  the  evening  I  dined  at  Bonciani's, 
in  the  Via  Panzani,  an  unpretentious  place  at  which  I  well 
remembered  having  eaten  famously  when  on  my  last  visit 
to  Florence.  Afterwards,  having  nothing  to  do,  I  went 
to  a  variety  show  at  the  Alhambra. 

Florence  was  full  of  French  and  English  visitors,  as 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  LILY  71 

it  always  -s  in  winter,  so  next  day  I  formed  a  plan,  and 
in  pretence  of  desiring  to  rent  a  furnished  flat,  I  called 
at  the  office  of  a  well-known  English  house-agent  in 
the  Via  Tornabuoni.  My  real  object  was  to  ascertain 
some  facts  concerning  Oswald  De  Gex. 

The  English  clerk  became  quite  enthusiastic  when  I 
mentioned  him. 

"  Mr.  De  Gex  is  greatly  respected  here,"  he  hastened 
to  tell  me.  "  Since  he  bought  the  Villa  Clementini  out- 
side Fiesole  he  has  lived  here  for  about  eight  months 
out  of  the  twelve.  Italians  love  rich  people,  and  because 
of  his  wealth  he  is  most  popular.  I  see  a  good  deal  of 
him,  for  we  act  as  agents  for  his  property  in  Italy.  He 
has  quite  a  large  estate — mostly  wine-growing." 

I  mentioned  that  I  had  met  him  in  London,  and  then 
asked  in  curiosity: 

"  Do  you  happen  to  know  anything  of  his  niece,  a  tall, 
very  handsome,  dark-haired  girl,  Miss  Engledue?" 

For  a  moment  he  reflected.    Then  he  said : 

"  I  recollect  when  up  at  the  villa  just  before  he  went 
to  London — that  was  about  three  months  ago — seeing  a 
tall,  dark-haired  young  lady.  She  came  into  the  library 
while  I  was  chatting  with  him.  But  I  don't  know  her 
name." 

"Was  she  about  twenty-one?"  I  asked  eagerly. 

"  Yes — about  that  age,"  was  his  reply.  "  But,  of  course, 
I  have  no  idea  whether  it  is  the  young  lady  you  mean." 

"  Had  you  seen  her  before  ?  " 

"  I  think  so — once  before.  She  was  in  the  car  in  the 
Cascine  with  Mrs.  De  Gex." 

"  I  wonder  how  I  could  discover  more  about  her  ?  "  I 
asked.  "Who  would  know?" 

"  Robertson,  the  butler,  or  Mr.  Henderson,  the  secre- 
tary." 


72          THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  The  butler  would  be  best,"  I  said.  "  How  could  I 
approach  him,  do  you  think?  I  don't  want  to  go  up  to 
the  villa." 

"  It  would  be  easy.  He's  often  down  at  the  Gambrinus 
in  the  afternoon.  I  frequently  meet  him  there,  and  we 
have  a  drink  and  a  chat." 

"  Would  he  be  there  this  afternoon  ?  I  do  wish  you 
would  introduce  me,"  I  urged.  "  The  matter  is  an  im- 
portant personal  one  concerning  myself." 

"  He  might  be  down  this  afternoon — about  four 
o'clock,"  replied  the  alert  young  Englishman  who  spoke 
Italian  so  well.  "  I'll  look  in  there  at  four,  if  you  will 
be  about." 

"  I  certainly  will  be  there,"  I  said,  and  then  we  went 
along  to  Giacosa's,  where  we  each  had  that  cocktail-like 
speciality  known  as  a  "  piccolo." 

At  five  minutes  to  four  that  afternoon  I  entered  the  big 
Gambrinus  Cafe,  which  was  nearly  opposite  my  hotel  on 
the  other  side  of  the  piazza,  and  I  took  a  seat  just  inside 
the  door.  The  orchestra  was  playing,  and  the  place  was 
well  filled  with  a  gay  cosmopolitan  crowd,  many  of  them 
winter  idlers. 

I  looked  around,  wondering  if  the  butler,  Robertson, 
had  arrived,  and  waited  in  patience  for  the  coming  of 
my  friend. 

Punctually  at  four  he  appeared,  and  greeting  me,  cast 
his  eyes  over  the  many  small  tables,  until'  suddenly  he 
exclaimed : 

"  Ah !    There  he  is !  " 

We  walked  to  a  table  some  distance  away,  where  a 
stoutish,  grey-haired,  clean-shaven  Englishman  was  smok- 
ing a  cigarette  and  reading  a  newspaper,  with  a  glass  of 
vermouth  and  seltzer  before  him. 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  LILY  73 

"  Hallo,  Arthur ! "  he  exclaimed  as  he  raised  his  eyes 
to  my  friend. 

"  This  is  a  friend  of  mine,  Mr.  Garfield,"  my  com- 
panion said,  introducing  me,  and  then  we  sat  down  and 
began  to  chat.  At  last  I  could  possess  myself  in  patience 
no  longer,  and  addressing  the  millionaire's  butler,  told 
him  frankly  that  I  was  in  search  of  information  concern- 
ing the  dark-haired  young  lady  who  had  been  guest  up 
at  the  villa  about  three  months  ago. 

"  Oh !  I  suppose  you  mean  Miss  Thurston — the  young 
American  lady,  don't  you  ?  But  she's  fair-haired !  " 

"  The  lady  I  mean  is  named  Engledue,"  I  replied. 

"  Oh !  I  don't  know  anyone  of  that  name,"  was  his 
reply.  "  Miss  Thurston  has  stayed  with  us  in  London 
and  down  in  Cornwall,  and  has  been  here  several  times. 
I  fancy  she's  some  relation  of  the  mistress's.  She  first 
came  to  stay  about  three  years  ago,  when  she  left  school 
in  Paris.  Then  she  went  home  to  America,  and  after  six 
months  came  back  again  to  us." 

"  You  haven't  any  idea  who  her  parents  are — or  where 
she  lived  in  America  ?  " 

"  She  lived  somewhere  near  Detroit,  I  believe.  That's 
all  I  know  about  her.  I  believe  her  people  are  motor- 
car makers  and  extremely  wealthy.  At  least,  somebody 
said  so — and  she's  very  free  with  tips  to  the  under- 
servants." 

"When  did  she  leave  here?" 

"  When  the  master  went  to  London.  I  was  to  go  too, 
but  I  had  influenza  and  had  to  remain  here." 

"  And  where  was  Mrs.  De  Gex?  "  I  inquired. 

"  She  was  already  at  Stretton  Street.  She  and  the 
little  boy  went  to  London  early  in  October,  but  came 
back  at  the  end  of  the  month." 


74          THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

Then  I  questioned  the  estimable  Robertson  concerning 
the  domestic  happiness  of  his  master.  I  said  I  had  heard 
rumours  in  London  of  matrimonial  differences. 

"  Well,  that's  a  lie,"  he  replied  quickly.  "  There  isn't 
a  pair  in  the  whole  of  London  Society  who  are  more 
devoted  to  each  other." 

This  greatly  surprised  me  after  the  words  that  had 
fallen  from  the  millionaire's  lips. 

Again  I  referred  to  the  mysterious  Gabrielle  whom  I 
described  as  minutely  as  I  was  able,  and  apparently  my 
description  fitted  that  of  Rose  Thurston,  save  for  the 
colour  of  her  hair. 

"  You  have  no  idea  where  she  is,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Not  the  slightest.  Back  in  America,  perhaps.  She 
seems  to  come  over  every  year." 

"  I  wonder  if  you  could  find  out  her  address?  "  I  asked. 
"  If  you  could,  it  would  be  of  very  great  service  to  me," 
and  I  handed  him  my  card,  expressing  a  hope  that  he 
would  refrain  from  mentioning  the  matter  to  his  mas- 
ter. 

"  I'll  try,"  he  said.  "  But  I  fear  I  shan't  succeed.  Mr. 
Henderson,  the  master's  secretary,  would  know,  of 
course." 

The  point  at  issue  now  was  whether  the  young  Am- 
erican girl,  who  had  been  the  millionaire's  guest  at  the 
villa,  and  Gabrielle  Engledue  were  actually  one  and  the 
same  person.  If  they  were,  then  I  had  made  one  step 
towards  the  solution  of  the  enigma. 

I  confess  to  utter  bewilderment.  My  brain  was  still 
confused.  Sometimes  my  skull  seemed  wrapped  in  cotton 
wool.  From  a  mere  unimportant  person  in  the  world 
of  electrical  engineering  I  had  suddenly  become  a  man 
upon  whom  rested  a  great  and  criminal  responsibility! 

In  that  huge,  garish  cafe,  with  its  great  arc  lamps  glow- 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  LILY  75 

ing  though  night  had  not  yet  fallen,  and  with  a  noisy 
orchestra  playing  selections  from  the  latest  crazes  of 
music  from  the  revues  in  London,  I  sat  with  a  perfectly 
open  mind.  I  had  been  the  victim  of  some  extremely 
clever  plot.  But  of  its  motive,  of  its  ramifications,  or 
of  its  conception,  I  had  no  knowledge.  Even  my  wildest 
imagination  was  at  fault. 

All  I  knew  was  that  the  sallow-faced  De  Gex — the  mil- 
lionaire who  lived  up  at  the  huge  Villa  Clementini — had 
plotted  against  the  handsome  girl,  and  she  had  died  in 
his  wife's  bedroom  in  Stretton  Street. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Robertson,  how  can  I  find  out  anything 
more  about  Miss  Thurston?  Give  me  your  advice." 

"  I'll  try  and  see  what  I  can  do,"  he  said.  "  Perhaps 
I  may  be  able  to  get  a  glance  at  the  mistress's  address 
book.  I  have  seen  it.  I'll  try." 

"  Yes — do !  "  I  said  very  anxiously.  "  It  means  so  very 
much  to  me." 

"Why?" 

I  hesitated.  My  intention  was  to  mislead  both  of  my 
companions. 

"  Well,"  I  said  with  a  laugh,  "  the  fact  is,  I — I'm  very 
fond  of  her !  " 

Both  men  exchanged  glances.  Then  they  smiled,  almost 
imperceptibly,  I  know,  but  it  struck  them  as  humorous 
that  I  had  fallen  in  1'ove  with  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy 
American. 

"  Of  course  I'm  not  yet  certain  whether  she  is  the  same 
lady,"  I  went  on.  "  She  may  not  be.  But  on  calm  con- 
sideration I  believe  she  is.  The  description  you  give 
of  her  is  exact." 

"  Well,"  exclaimed  the  butler,  "  I'll  see  if  I  can  get 
at  the  address  book.  She  keeps  it  in  a  drawer  in  her 


76    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

boudoir,  which  is  usually  locked.  But  sometimes  she 
leaves  it  open.  At  any  rate,  I'll  see  what  I  can  do  and  let 
you  know." 

I  thanked  him  and  told  him  that  I  was  staying  at  the 
Savoy.  Then  I  was  compelled  to  discuss  with  the  estate- 
agent's  clerk  the  pretended  renting  of  an  apartment  out 
by  the  Porta  Romana,  which,  he  said,  was  vacant. 

On  the  following  day,  in  order  to  still  sustain  the  de- 
ception, I  went  and  viewed  the  place,  and  found  it  really 
quite  comfortable  and  very  reasonable.  But,  of  course, 
I  was  compelled  to  express  dislike  of  it.  Whereupon  my 
friend  promised  to  find  me  another. 

Day  after  day  I  waited  in  Florence,  hoping  against  hope 
that  Robertson  would  be  able  to  furnish  me  with  Miss 
Thurston's  address.  But  though  I  saw  him  several  times 
he  reported  that  the  drawer  containing  the  address  book 
was  still  locked. 

Mr.  De  Gex  had  gone  to  Rome,  and  was  away  for 
three  days.  The  British  Ambassador  was  giving  some 
official  function  and  the  millionaire  had  been  invited. 
Indeed,  I  read  all  about  it  in  the  Nazione. 

On  the  fourth  day  he  returned,  for  I  saw  him  in  his 
big  yellow  car  driving  along  the  Via  Calzajoli.  An  ele- 
gant Italian,  the  young  Marchese  Cerretani,  was  seated 
at  his  side,  and  both  were  laughing  together. 

Twice  I  had  been  up  to  the  Villa  Clementini,  and  wan- 
dered around  its  high  white  walls  which  hid  the  beautiful 
gardens  from  the  public  gaze.  Surely  there  was  no  fairer 
spot  in  all  sunny  Italy  than  that  chosen  by  the  rich  man 
as  his  abode.  To  the  hundreds  of  visitors  of  all  nations, 
who  came  up  by  train  to  Fiesole  from  Florence  to  lunch 
or  dine  at  the  various  pleasant  little  restaurants,  the 
great  imposing  place  was  pointed  out  as  the  residence 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  LILY  77 

of  the  rich  "  Inglese " — the  man  who  possessed  more 
money  than  any  of  the  most  wealthy  in  the  kingdom  of 
Italy. 

When  I  thought  of  that  fateful  night  in  Stretton  Street, 
I  waxed  furious.  Was  it  possible,  that,  by  the  possession 
of  great  riches,  a  man  could  commit  crime  with  im- 
punity? Perhaps  what  goaded  me  to  desperation  more 
than  anything  was  the  foul  trick  that  had  been  played 
upon  me — the  administration  of  that  drug  which  had 
caused  me  to  lose  all  sense  of  my  own  being. 

That  subtle  odour  of  pot-pourri  had  gripped  me  until 
I  felt  faint  and  inert  beneath  its  perfume,  and  it  often 
returned  to  me — but  in  fancy,  of  course. 

In  the  winter  sunshine  I  wandered  about  the  busy, 
old-world  streets  of  Florence,  idling  in  the  cafes,  gazing 
into  the  many  shop-windows  of  the  dealers  in  faked  pic- 
tures and  faked  antiques,  while  often  my  wandering  foot- 
steps led  me  into  one  or  other  of  the  "  sights  "  of  the 
city,  all  of  which  I  had  visited  before — the  National  Mu- 
seum at  the  Bargello,  the  Laurenziana  Library,  with  its 
rows  of  priceless  chained  manuscripts,  the  Chiostro  dello 
Scalzo,  where  Andrea  del  Sarto's  wonderful  frescoes 
adorn  the  walls,  or  into  the  Palazzo  Vecchio,  or  the  gal- 
leries of  the  Pitti,  or  the  Uffizi.  I  was  merely  killing  time 
in  the  faint  hope  that  the  good-natured  Robertson  might 
get  for  me  the  information  which,  in  the  circumstances, 
I  was  naturally  most  eager  to  obtain. 

In  the  course  of  my  erratic  wanderings  through  the 
grand  old  city,  with  its  host  of  monuments  of  a  glorious 
past,  I  was  one  morning  passing  the  great  marble-built 
cathedral  and  noticed  a  number  of  people  entering.  There 
seemed  to  be  an  unusual  number  of  visitors,  so  having 
nothing  to  do  I  passed  through  the  narrow  door  into  the 


78          THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

sombre  gloom  of  the  magnificent  old  place — one  of  the 
most  noteworthy  and  most  beautiful  sacred  buildings 
in  the  world. 

At  first,  entering  from  the  bright  sunshine  of  the 
piazza.,  I  could  scarcely  see,  so  dim  was  the  huge  inter- 
ior, but  slowly  my  vision,  rather  bad  since  my  strange 
adventure,  grew  accustomed  to  the  half-darkness,  and  I 
saw  that  upon  the  high  altar  there  were  many  long 
candles  burning  in  their  brass  sconces  and  before  the 
high  altar  three  priests  in  gorgeous  vestments  were  kneel- 
ing. 

In  the  great  cavernous  place,  with  its  choir  beneath 
the  dome,  I  heard  low  prayers  in  Latin.  Men  and  women 
who  passed  me  bowed  and  crossed  themselves  while  many 
knelt. 

The  glorious  cathedral  of  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore,  so 
called  from  the  Lily  which  figures  in  the  Arms  of  Flor- 
ence— hence  "  the  Lily  City  " — had  always  an  attraction 
for  me,  as  it  has  for  every  visitor  to  the  ancient  Tuscan 
capital.  The  stained  glass  of  Ghiberti,  the  wonderful 
mosaics  of  Gaddo  Gaddi,  the  frescoes  of  angels  by  Santi 
di  Tito,  and  the  beautiful  pictures  by  the  great  mediaeval 
masters,  all  are  marvellous,  and  worth  crossing  the  world 
to  see. 

From  before  the  altar  a  long  spiral  mist  of  incense 
was  rising,  and  about  me  as  I  stood  in  the  centre  of  the 
enormous  interior,  many  visitors  were  passing  out  from 
the  dim  religious  gloom  into  the  light  of  the  open  door- 
way. 

Suddenly  my  eyes  caught  sight  of  a  countenance. 

I  held  my  breath,  standing  rooted  to  the  spot.  What 
I  saw  staggered  belief.  Was  it  only  a  chimera  of  my  un- 
balanced imagination — or  was  it  actual  fact? 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  LILY  79 

For  a  few  seconds  I  remained  undecided.  Then,  aghast 
and  amazed,  I  became  convinced  that  it  was  a  stern  reality. 

The  mystery  of  the  affair  at  Stretton  Street  became 
in  that  single  moment  a  problem  even  more  than  ever 
bewildering. 


CHAPTER  THE  SIXTH 

ANOTHER  PUZZLE 

KNEELING  before  Donatello's  magnificent  picture  of  the 
Virgin  over  one  of  the  side  altars,  her  outline  dimly  il- 
luminated by  the  light  of  many  candles,  was  a  slim,  dark- 
haired  young  woman  in  deep  mourning.  Her  head  was 
bowed  in  an  attitude  of  great  devotion,  but  a  few  mo- 
ments later,  when  she  raised  her  face,  I  stood  rooted  to 
the  spot. 

The  countenance  was  that  of  the  dead  girl  Gabrielle 
Engledue ! 

An  involuntary  exclamation  left  my  lips,  and  a  woman 
standing  near  me  heard  me,  and  wondered. 

Kneeling  beside  the  girl  in  black  was  a  thin-faced,  black- 
haired  Italian  of  about  forty-five.  He  was  somewhat 
handsome,  though  a  sinister  expression  played  about  his 
lips. 

I  watched  the  pair  for  several  minutes,  wondering 
whether  in  my  brain,  unbalanced  as  it  had  been,  the 
scene  was  a  mere  chimera  on  my  part  and  that,  after 
all,  the  girl  only  slightly  resembled  the  victim  at  Stretton 
Street. 

The  latter  I  had  not  seen  in  life,  and  death  always 
alters  the  features.  Nevertheless,  the  sudden  encounter 
was  most  startling,  and  from  where  I  stood  behind  a 
great  marble  column  I  watched  them. 

At  last  both  rose  and  crossing  themselves  piously, 
walked  slowly  to  the  door.  I  followed  them.  It  surely 

80 


ANOTHER  PUZZLE  81 

could  not  be  that  the  girl  whose  death  certificate  I  had 
forged,  and  whose  body  had  been  reduced  to  ashes,  was 
actually  alive  and  well!  I  recollected  that  sum  of  five 
thousand  pounds,  and  the  strange  adventures  which  had 
befallen  me  after  I  had  accepted  the  bribe  to  pose  as 
a  doctor,  and  certify  that  death  had  been  due  to  natural 
causes. 

Outside  in  the  bright  sunlight  of  the  Piazza.,  I  obtained 
a  full  view  of  her.  Her  rather  shabby  black  was  evi- 
dently of  good  material,  but  her  face  struck  me  as  dis- 
tinctly strange.  The  expression  in  her  dark  luminous 
eyes  was  fixed,  as  though  she  were  fascinated  and  utterly 
unconscious  of  all  about  her.  She  walked  mechanically, 
without  interest,  and  utterly  heedless  of  where  she  went. 
Her  companion's  hand  was  upon  her  arm  as  she  crossed 
to  the  Via  Calzajoli,  and  I  wondered  if  she  were  blind. 

I  had  never  before  seen  such  a  blank,  hopeless  expres- 
sion in  a  woman's  eyes. 

The  man,  on  the  contrary,  was  shrewd  and  alert.  His 
close-set  eyes  shot  shrewd  glances  from  beneath  black 
bushy  eyebrows  with  a  keen,  penetrating  gaze,  as  though 
nothing  escaped  him.  He  seemed  to  be  trying  to  hurry 
her,  in  fear  of  being  recognized.  He  had  not  noticed 
me,  hence  in  the  bustle  of  the  busy  street  I  managed  to 
get  up  close  behind  them,  when  of  a  sudden,  I  heard  her 
exclaim : 

"  Not  so  fast !    Really  I  can't  walk  so  fast !  " 

She  spoke  in  English ! 

Her  companion,  uncouth  and  heedless,  still  had  his 
hand  upon  her  arm,  hurrying  her  along  without  slacken- 
ing his  pace.  She  seemed  like  a  girl  in  a  dream.  Truly, 
she  was  very  handsome,  a  strange  tragic  figure  amid 
alt  the  hubbub  of  Florence,  the  old-world  city  of  noise 
and  of  narrow  streets,  where  Counts  and  contadini  rub 


82    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

shoulders,  and  the  tradesmen  are  ever  on  the  look  out 
to  profit — if  only  a  few  soldi — upon  the  innocent  for- 
eigner. 

Firenze  la  Bella — or  Florence  as  the  average  English- 
man knows  it — is  surely  a  city  of  strange  people  and  of 
strange  moods.  By  the  discordant  clanging  of  its  church 
bells  the  laughter-loving  Florentines  are  moved  to  gaiety, 
or  to  piety,  and  by  the  daily  articles  in  the  local  journals, 
the  Nasione  or  the  Ficramosca,  they  can  be  incited  to 
riot  or  violence.  The  Tuscans,  fine  aristocratic  nobles 
with  ten  centuries  of  lineage  behind  them,  and  splendid 
peasants  with  all  their  glorious  traditions  of  feudal  servi- 
tude under  the  "  nobile,"  are,  after  all,  like  children,  with 
a  simplicity  that  is  astounding,  combined  with  a  cunning 
that  is  amazing. 

Along  the  Via  Calzajoli  I  followed  the  pair  in  breath- 
less eagerness.  At  that  hour  of  the  morning  the  central 
thoroughfare  is  always  crowded  by  business  men,  cooks 
out  shopping,  and  open-mouthed  forestieri — the  foreign- 
ers who  come,  guide-book  in  hand,  to  gaze  at  and  admire 
the  thousand  wonderful  monuments  of  the  ancient  city 
of  Medici.  The  girl's  face  certainly  resembled  very 
closely  that  of  the  dead  girl  Gabrielle  Engledue.  The 
countenance  I  had  seen  at  Stretton  Street  was  white  and 
lifeless,  while  that  of  the  girl  was  fresh  and  rosy.  Never- 
theless, that  blank  expression  upon  her  face,  and  the  fact 
that  her  companion  had  linked  his  arm  in  hers,  both 
pointed  to  the  fact  that  either  her  vision  was  dim,  or  her 
great  dark  eyes  were  actually  sightless.  The  man  was 
fairly  well  dressed,  but  the  girl  was  very  shabby.  Her 
rusty  black,  her  cheap  stockings,  her  down-at-heel  shoes, 
and  her  faded  hat  combined  to  present  a  picture  of  pov- 
erty. Indeed,  the  very  fact  of  the  neglect  of  her  dress 
was  increasing  evidence  that  her  vision  was  dim,  for 


ANOTHER  PUZZLE  83 

surely  she  would  not  go  forth  with  the  rent  in  the  elbow 
of  her  blouse.  Did  she  know  that  it  was  torn? 

Just  as  we  were  passing  the  ancient  church  of  Or  San 
Michele,  with  its  wonderful  armorial  bearings  by  Luca 
della  Robbia,  an  old  man  with  long  white  hair  and  beard, 
whom  I  took  to  be  one  of  the  many  painters  who  copy 
the  masterpieces  in  the  Uffizi  or  the  Pitti,  passed  by,  and 
raising  his  hat,  wished  the  pair :  "  Buon  giorno! " 

The  girl's  companion  returned  the  salute  with  a  slight 
expression  of  annoyance,  perhaps  at  being  recognized, 
but  the  girl  took  no  notice,  and  did  not  acknowledge  him. 

The  man  uttered  some  words  in  the  girl's  ear,  and  then 
hurried  her  on  more  quickly,  at  the  same  time  glancing 
furtively  around.  It  was  quite  plain  that  he  had  no  wish 
to  be  seen  there,  hence  my  curiosity  became  increased. 

Every  moment  I,  however,  feared  that  he  might  realize 
I  was  following  them;  but  I  did  not  mean  that  they 
should  escape  me. 

In  the  Piazza  della  Signorina  they  halted  opposite  that 
great  old  prison-like  building,  the  Palazzo  Vecchio,  where 
several  people  were  awaiting  an  omnibus,  and  as  they 
stood  there  the  girl,  who  bore  such  a  striking  resemblance 
to  the  dead  niece  of  the  millionaire,  stared  straight  be- 
fore her,  taking  no  notice  of  anything  about  her,  a  strange, 
statuesque,  pathetic  figure,  inert  and  entirely  guided  by 
the  ferret-eyed  man  at  her  side. 

I  was  compelled  to  draw  back  and  watch  them  from 
a  distance,  hoping  that  I  might  be  successful  in  follow- 
ing them  to  their  destination.  It  certainly  was  strange 
that  the  girl  who  was  so  much  like  Gabrielle  Engledue 
should  be  there  in  Florence,  within  a  mile  or  two  of  De 
Gex's  villa ! 

As    I    watched,    yet   another   person — a    well-dressed 


84    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

woman  of  about  forty — recognizing  the  girl's  companion, 
smiled  as  she  passed,  while  he,  on  his  part,  raised  his 
hat.  The  woman  who  had  passed  struck  me  as  being 
either  English  or  American,  for  there  are  many  English- 
speaking  residents  in  Florence.  For  a  second  I  debated 
within  myself,  and  then  a  moment  later  I  followed  her 
until  she  turned  a  corner  in  the  Via  di  Porta  Rossa. 
Then  I  hurried,  and  overtaking  her  politely  raised  my  hat. 

"  I  trust  you  will  pardon  me,  Madame,"  I  exclaimed 
in  English,  as  she  started  and  looked  at  me  askance.  "  I 
presume  you  are  either  English  or  American  ?  " 

"  I  am  American,"  she  replied  with  a  pronounced 
•drawl. 

"  Please  forgive  my  inquisitiveness,  but  I  seek  your 
aid  in  a  little  matter  which  is  of  greatest  consequence  to 
me,"  I  went  on.  "  A  moment  ago,  as  you  crossed  the 
Piazza,  you  encountered  an  Italian  gentleman  and  a  girl. 
Could  you  tell  me  the  gentleman's  name  ?  " 

"  What,  the  person  I  bowed  to  a  moment  ago  ?  "  she 
exclaimed.  "  Oh !  that's  Doctor  Moroni." 

Moroni!  I  recollected  the  name.  He  was  one  of  the 
mourners ! 

"And  the  girl?"  I  asked. 

"  Ah !  I  do  not  know.  I  saw  her  out  with  an  old 
woman  the  other  day.  But  I  have  no  idea  who  she  is." 

"  Is  Doctor  Moroni  a  doctor  of  medicine?"  I  inquired. 

"  Yes.  The  people  at  the  pension  of  the  Lung  Arno 
where  I  live,  always  call  him  in.  I  was  ill  six  months 
ago,  and  he  attended  me.  He  lives  in  the  Via.  Cavezzo, 
near  the  Porta  Romona — number  six,  I  believe." 

"  I  am  sure  I  am  extremely  obliged  to  you,"  I  replied 
very  gratefully.  "  I  have  a  very  strong  reason  for  ask- 
ing these  questions — reasons  which  concern  the  young 
lady,"  I  added. 


ANOTHER  PUZZLE  85 

The  American  woman  smiled,  and  then,  reiterating  my 
thanks,  I  raised  my  hat  and  left  her. 

At  least  I  had  discovered  the  identity  of  the  girl's 
companion.  He  was  a  doctor,  hence  it  was  most  prob- 
able that  she  was  under  his  charge.  Nevertheless,  it 
was  strange  that  he  should  take  her  to  the  Duomo  and 
pray  at  her  side.  Doctors  do  not  usually  act  in  that 
manner  with  their  patients. 

When  I  returned  to  the  Piazza  the  pair  were  nowhere 
to  be  seen,  therefore  I  strolled  to  the  nearest  cafe,  and 
sat  down  with  a  cigarette  to  think  out  the  remarkable 
affair. 

One  or  two  features  of  the  problem  now  became  more 
than  ever  puzzling.  First,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  I 
had  seen  Gabrielle  Engledue  lying  dead  and  had,  for 
a  bribe  of  five  thousand  pounds,  signed  a  death  certificate 
purporting  to  be  from  Doctor  Gordon  Garfield,  of  Queen 
Anne  Street,  Cavendish  Square,  it  seemed  beyond  credence 
that  the  girl  who  had  died  and  been  cremated  should  be 
led  about  the  streets  of  Florence  by  this  Italian,  Doctor 
Moroni.  Oswald  De  Gex's  denials  were,  in  themselves, 
only  thin,  and  yet  they  were  all  very  clever  and  carefully 
prepared.  The  story  of  how  his  wife  had  left  his  little 
son  in  Westbourne  Grove  to  be  discovered  by  the  police 
was  no  doubt  well  thought  out.  De  Gex  and  his  wife 
were  actually  on  most  affectionate  terms,  hence  the  tale 
he  had  told  had  been  purposely  concocted,  in  order  to 
mislead  me.  Besides,  his  pretence  that  the  dead  girl  had 
been  his  niece  was,  of  course,  a  similarly  concocted  story 
to  mislead  me,  and  also  to  discredit  me  if  perchance  I 
made  any  unwelcome  inquiries. 

That  I  had  been  half  asphyxiated  and  then  drugged  until 
my  mental  balance  had  been  upset,  was  quite  plain.  And 
it  was  equally  plain  that  De  Gex  did  not  intend  that  I 


86          THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

should  be  capable  of  making  inquiries  concerning  the 
events  of  that  memorable  November  night.  When  I  had 
been  thrown  out  of  the  motor-car  on  that  French  high- 
way, near  St.  Malo,  the  bank-notes  had  been  purposely 
left  in  my  pocket.  I  had  already  copied  the  numbers,  and 
had  called  upon  the  millionaire's  bankers  in  Pall  Mall, 
but  there  was  no  record  that  any  of  them  had  been  issued 
to  him.  That  payment  had  evidently  been  very  well  con- 
cealed. 

On  every  hand  it  appeared  quite  plain  that  I  had  been 
the  victim  of  some  strange  and  remarkable  conspiracy, 
the  motive  of  which  was  entirely  obscure.  Surely  I  must 
have  been  watched,  and  my  habits  noted.  De  Gex  had 
known  that  I  frequently  passed  his  door  on  my  way  to 
visit  my  uncle,  and  further,  he  must  have  known  that  I 
should  pass  on  that  fateful  night  in  November  when 
Horton  was  sent  out  to  entice  me  within. 

But  the  chief  point  of  that  complex  puzzle  was  the  fact 
that  there,  in  Florence,  within  a  mile  or  two  of  the  mil- 
lionaire's almost  regal  residence,  I  had  encountered  a 
living  girl  who,  in  every  feature,  was  the  exact  counter- 
part of  the  poor  girl  whose  death  -and  cremation  stood 
recorded  in  the  official  registry  at  Somerset  House ! 

When  in  London  I  had  been  half  inclined  to  call  upon 
Doctor  Gordon  Garfield  and  explain  the  situation.  But 
such  confession  must,  I  knew,  lead  to  my  prosecution  and 
inevitable  imprisonment.  I  had  taken  a  false  step  while 
under  the  baneful  influence  of  some  drug  which  had 
stultified  my  own  volition  and  held  me  powerless  to  resist 
the  temptation.  I  was  now  endeavouring  to  seek  the 
truth. 

That  the  amazing  adventure  in  Stretton  Street  was  not 
the  outcome  of  imagination  was  proved  by  the  entry  in 
the  register  at  Somerset  House,  and  also  by  the  evidence 


ANOTHER  PUZZLE  87 

of  the  cremation  of  the  body.  But  that  the  beautiful  girl 
I  had  seen  lying  dead  could  now  be  walking  about  the 
streets  of  Florence  was,  of  course,  utterly  absurd. 

Was  my  memory,  in  my  rather  weak  state  of  health, 
playing  tricks  with  me?  I  began  to  fear  that  such  was 
the  case. 

As  I  sat  over  my  "  bock  "  watching  the  tide  of  Floren- 
tine life  pass  and  repass  across  the  great  piazza,  I  began 
to  laugh  at  myself,  and  felt  half  inclined  to  abandon  the 
inquiry.  Still  it  was  all  most  mysterious  and  mystifying. 
Why  had  I  been  marked  down  as  a  tool  to  further  the 
millionaire's  ends?  And  who,  after  all,  was  the  victim? 

I  tried  to  dismiss  the  apparently  sightless  girl  from 
my  mind,  but  somehow  the  affair  obsessed  me.  I  seemed 
impelled  to  go  farther  and  try  to  elucidate  the  mystery. 
I  endeavoured  to  make  up  my  mind  to  forget  it  all  and 
return  to  England  and  to  my  work  at  Francis  and  Gold- 
smith's— but  all  to  no  avail.  My  duty,  I  felt,  was  to  leave 
no  stone  unturned  until  I  had  discovered  whether  Gab- 
rielle  Engledue  had  died  from  natural  causes,  or  as  a 
result  of  foul  play. 

The  pale,  tragic  face  of  the  girl  I  had  encountered  in 
the  Duomo  haunted  me.  Towards  the  narrow-eyed  Doc- 
tor Moroni  I  felt  an  instinctive  dislike,  even  though  I 
had  no  cause  to  distrust  him. 

I  think  it  was  the  strange  intuition  I  experienced  at 
that  moment  which  caused  me  to  decide  to  act  with  dis- 
cretion and  caution,  and  to  discover  all  that  I  could  con- 
cerning the  doctor  and  his  tragic-faced  companion. 

With  a  fixed  plan  I  returned  to  my  hotel,  ate  my 
luncheon  in  the  big  salle  a  manger,  which  was  crowded 
with  foreigners  wintering  in  Florence.  Then,  after  lunch, 
I  complained  to  the  manager  of  feeling  unwell,  and  asked 
him  to  telephone  to  Doctor  Moroni,  in  the  Via  Cavezzo. 


88    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  Ah !  a  most  excellent  doctor !  "  remarked  the  hotel 
manager.  "  He  has  a  very  large  practice  among  the 
English  and  Americans.  And  he  is  quite  popular.  I 
suppose  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  No.  I  have  only  heard  of  him,  and  of  his  cleverness," 
I  said  with  affected  carelessness. 

Ten  minutes  later  the  manager  sent  me  a  message  by 
a  page  that  the  doctor  would  call  at  three  o'clock.  So, 
in  my  pretended  illness,  I  went  to  my  room  and  feigned 
the  symptoms  of  acute  indigestion. 

Punctually  the  doctor  arrived,  and  greeted  me  in  his 
most  professional  manner.  I  at  once  explained  that  an 
American  lady  of  my  acquaintance  had  recommended  him, 
whereupon  he  bowed,  smiled,  and  seating  himself  before 
me  inquired  my  symptoms. 

His  looks  were  certainly  not  an  index  to  his  character, 
for  though  he  appeared  so  stern  and  taciturn  yet  at  heart 
he  was,  I  saw,  a  very  humorous,  easy-going  man,  a  true 
Tuscan  who  showed  his  white  teeth  when  he  laughed, 
gesticulated  violently,  and  spoke  English  with  a  refined 
accent  that  was  particularly  charming. 

"  It  is  probably  the  change  of  diet,"  he  declared  at  last, 
after  diagnosing  my  symptoms.  "  I  see  many  such  cases 
among  foreigners  who  are  unused  to  some  of  our  rather 
indigestible  dishes.  The  latter  are  very  toothsome,  and 
they  eat  heartily — with  dire  results,"  and  he  smiled. 

So  well  indeed  did  I  describe  my  supposed  ailment  that 
before  he  left  he  wrote  me  out  a  prescription.  Afterwards 
I  made  pretence  of  being  a  perfect  stranger  in  Florence. 
I  longed  to  speak  of  Oswald  De  Gex,  but  feared  to  do  so 
"because  his  suspicions  might  by  that  become  aroused. 
If  so,  then  all  hope  of  discovering  the  true  facts  would 
instantly  vanish. 

"  I  hope  you  will  soon  be  all  right  and  that  you  will 


ANOTHER  PUZZLE  89 

enjoy  your  visit  to  our  Tuscany,"  he  said  very  pleasantly. 
"  Florence  is  very  full  of  visitors  just  now.  Are  you  re- 
maining long?  " 

"  I  really  can't  tell,"  was  my  reply  "  My  business  in 
London  may  recall  me  at  any  time." 

Then  I  thanked  him  for  his  visit,  and  remarked  that  if 
the  mixture  gave  me  no  relief  I  would  probably  call  upon 
him. 

Indeed,  it  was  for  this  latter  reason  that  I  had  called 
him  in.  By  making  his  acquaintance  in  that  manner  I 
would,  I  saw,  excite  no  suspicion,  and  I  hoped  to  be  able 
to  meet  the  girl  who  was  apparently  under  his  charge. 

While  I  had  been  consulting  him  I  noticed  that  he 
seemed  a  man  of  curious  moods.  At  one  moment  his  dark 
countenance  was  sullen  and  sinister,  while  at  the  next 
his  face  broadened  into  an  expression  of  easy-going  bon- 
homie. He  spoke  English  extremely  well,  and  was  appar- 
ently a  man  of  considerable  taste  and  refinement.  Truly, 
the  situation  was  so  puzzling  that  I  was  bewildered. 

After  he  had  gone,  I  re-dressed  myself  and  went  across 
to  the  Gambrinus,  where  I  had  an  appointment  with  Rob- 
ertson. 

I  found  him  seated  alone  at  a  table  in  the  corner  await- 
ing me. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  said,  "  I've  got  that  address  for  you,  Mr. 
Garfield — the  address  of  Miss  Thurston,"  and  he  handed 
me  a  slip  of  paper  upon  which  was  written:  Miss  Rose 
Thurston,  Cedar  Cottage,  Overstrand,  Norfolk. 

"  But  I  thought  you  said  she  lived  near  Detroit  ?  "  I 
remarked. 

"  She  and  her  mother  did  live  in  America,  but  I  have 
discovered  that  they  now  have  a  house  near  Cromer," 
was  the  butler's  reply.  So  in  acknowledgment  of  his 


90    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

services  I  passed  him  a  couple  of  Italian  notes,  and  we 
then  had  a  drink  together. 

While  doing  so  a  strange  thought  crossed  my  mind. 

Could  it  be  possible  that  the  girl  I  had  seen  with  Doctor 
Moroni  and  Rose  Thurston  were  one  and  the  same ! 


CHAPTER  THE  SEVENTH 
THE  MILLIONAIRE'S  APPREHENSIONS 

THAT  same  evening  I  made  a  number  of  inquiries  con- 
cerning Doctor  Moroni.  On  every  hand  I  heard  high 
praise  of  his  skill.  He  was  one  of  the  principal  physicians 
at  the  great  hospital  at  Gelsomino,  and  among  other  of 
his  illustrious  patients  there  had  been  a  Russian  Grand 
Duke  and  an  Austrian  princess  who  lived  in  a  magnificent 
villa  upon  the  Viale  dei  Colli. 

I  went  about  the  wonderful  city  of  art  collecting  in- 
formation concerning  the  doctor,  where  and  when  I 
could,  because  a  startling  fact  had  been  revealed  to  me  by 
Robertson,  namely,  that  Moroni  was  De  Gex's  medical 
attendant. 

In  the  night-time  when  the  narrow  ancient  side-streets 
of  Florence,  with  their  ponderous  prison-like  palaces  with 
iron-barred  windows  are  so  ill-lit  and  cavernous,  the  place 
seems  a  city  of  evil  deeds,  as  indeed  it  was  in  the  days  of 
the  Medici  and  of  the  Borgias. 

As  I  trod  those  streets  between  the  Porta  Romana  and 
Santa  Maria  Novella,  I  confess  that  I  became  apprehen- 
sive of  a  nervous  breakdown. 

That  a  girl  had  been  wilfully  done  to  death  in  that 
West  End  mansion,  and  that  I  had  accepted  a  bribe  to 
aid  and  abet  the  assassin,  were  undeniable  facts.  The 
wealthy  man  evidently  believed  that,  for  my  own  sake 
and  in  order  to  escape  prosecution,  I  would  not  seek  to 
solve  the  enigma.  Now,  as  I  reflected  upon  my  interview 
at  the  Villa  Clementini,  I  realized  how  artful  he  was  in 


92    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

denying  everything,  and  yet  allowing  me  a  loophole  for 
escape.  He  had  mentioned  blackmail — an  ugly  word  with 
ugly  consequences — well-knowing  that  I  dare  not  go  to 
the  Metropolitan  Police  and  make  any  statement  of  what 
I  had  witnessed  or  of  how  I  had  acted. 

I  still  held  that  five  thousand  pounds  bribe  intact.  The 
accursed  notes  were  at  the  flat  at  Rivermead  Mansions. 
My  position  was  now  untenable.  When  that  night  I 
retired  to  my  room  I  realized  that  the  situation  was  hope- 
less. How  could  I  support  any  charge  against  a  man 
who,  being  a  millionaire,  could  purchase  manufactured 
evidence — as  is  done  every  day — just  as  easily  as  he  could 
purchase  a  cigar? 

The  evidence  given  in  judicial  courts  in  every  Euro- 
pean capital  in  cases  where  the  party,  either  plaintiff  or 
defendant,  is  well  possessed  of  this  world's  goods,  is 
usually  tainted.  In  no  place  on  earth  can  money  work 
more  marvels  than  in  a  court  of  law.  Witnesses  who 
make  testimony  a  profession  for  big  fees  appear  in  every 
Assize  court  in  the  world.  And  some  of  them  are,  alas ! 
experts.  True  it  is  that  every  man  has  his  price,  and  the 
more  so  in  these  hard,  post-war  days  of  riot  and  ruin. 
Justice  and  brotherly  love  departed  with  the  Victorian 
era.  The  old  game  of  "  Beat-your-neighbour-out-of- 
doors,"  played  by  our  grandfathers,  seems  to  be  the  only 
one  practised  in  our  modern  times. 

With  such  thoughts  I  fell  asleep. 

Next  day  I  spent  in  again  wandering  the  old-world 
streets  of  Florence,  hoping  to  obtain  another  glimpse  of 
Moroni  and  his  fair  charge.  I  went  to  the  Duomo  and 
waited  near  that  side-chapel  where  I  had  first  seen  them. 
Then,  as  they  did  not  come,  I  idled  before  a  cafe  in  the 
Via  Calzajoli,  and  again  in  the  Piazza  della  Signorina. 
But  I  saw  nothing  of  them.  That  afternoon  I  spent  the 


THE  MILLIONAIRE'S  APPREHENSIONS        93 

winter  sunshine  in  the  Cascine,  the  beautiful  wood  beside 
the  Arno  where  the  Florentines  go  each  day  for  the  pas- 
seggiata,  either  in  their  old-fashioned  landaus  with  armor- 
ial bearings  upon  the  panels,  in  modern  motor-cars,  or  on 
foot.  The  afternoon,  though  it  was  winter,  was  glorious, 
even  though  the  cold  wind  from  the  snow-tipped  Apen- 
nines swept  sharply  down  the  valley.  Yet  everyone  was 
wrapped  up  warmly,  and  the  fresh  air  was  invigorating. 

Though  I  kept  my  eyes  open  everywhere,  I  failed  to 
detect  that  slim  figure  in  rusty  black. 

I  allowed  the  following  day  to  pass.  Then,  at  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  I  called  at  the  house  of  Doctor 
Moroni  in  pretence  of  again  consulting  him. 

Upon  the  door  of  the  great  old  house,  now  converted 
into  spacious  flats,  was  a  small,  rather  tarnished  brass 
plate  with  the  words :  "  Dr.  Moroni,  Primo  Piano." 

So  I  climbed  the  wide  stone  stairs  to  the  first  floor,  and 
rang  the  bell.  My  summons  was  answered  by  a  tall, 
swarthy,  dark-eyed  Italian  maid,  who  wore  a  dainty  mus- 
lin apron,  but  no  cap — as  is  the  custom  in  Italy.  She  was 
a  Piedmontese,  for  in  her  hair  she  wore  several  of  those 
large  pins  with  round  heads  of  silver  filigree  placed  in 
a  semicircle  at  the  back  of  her  head,  until  they  formed 
a  kind  of  halo. 

"  The  Signore  Dottore  is  at  home,"  was  her  reply  in 
Italian.  "  Be  pleased  to  enter." 

And  she  showed  me  along  a  narrow  halt  to  what  was 
evidently  Moroni's  waiting-room.  The  atmosphere  of 
the  place  was  close  on  account  of  the  charcoal  stove,  and 
the  barely-furnished  room  smelt  of  some  disinfectant. 

I  had  sat  there  for  some  moments  when  I  heard  a  door 
open,  and  men's  voices  sounded  speaking  in  English : 

"  Very  well,  signore,"  I  heard  the  doctor  say.  "  I 
will  be  up  at  the  villa  at  eleven  o'clock." 


94    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  Good,"  replied  the  other.  "  You  will  not  be  troubled 
by  Robertson  this  time.  He  will  be  away.  I  am  sending 
him  on  a  message  to  Pisa,  as  I  do  not  want  him  about; 
he  is  too  inquisitive.  Besides,  you  will  not  come  to  the 
house.  You  quite  understand  where  we  shall  meet  ?  " 

"  Quite,  signore,"  replied  Moroni. 

By  the  mode  in  which  the  doctor  addressed  his  visitor, 
and  the  mention  of  Robertson,  it  was  plain  that  he  was 
speaking  with  Oswald  De  Gex.  Why  was  the  butler 
to  be  sent  to  Pisa?  I  wondered. 

I  sat  breathless,  listening  to  the  footsteps  along  the 
hall,  and  to  Moroni  wishing  his  visitor  good  afternoon. 

A  few  moments  later  he  opened  the  door  brusquely 
and  with  a  pleasant  smile  apologized  for  keeping  me  wait- 
ing. Then  he  conducted  me  to  his  consulting-room,  a 
gloomy,  frowsy  little  apartment  much  over-heated,  as  is 
usual  in  Florentine  houses  in  winter. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  asked.  "  And  how  do  you  feel  now,  Mr. 
Garfield?" 

My  reply  was  the  reverse  of  satisfactory.  The  mix- 
ture had  done  me  good,  I  said,  but  I  still  felt  excruciat- 
ing pains  after  eating.  In  consequence,  he  felt  my  pulse 
and  took  my  temperature,  while  I,  on  my  part,  strained 
my  ears  listening  for  any  feminine  voice.  Was  the  girl 
whose  secret  I  sought  still  there? 

Once  I  heard  a  woman's  voice,  but  she  cried  in  Italian 
to  a  fellow-servant  named  Enrichetta,  hence  she  was 
probably  the  maid  who  had  admitted  me. 

Moroni,  after  he  had  concluded  his  examination,  seemed 
a  little  puzzled.  No  doubt  I  had,  in  my  ignorance,  de- 
scribed some  imaginary  symptom  which  was  not  in  ac- 
cordance with  what  he  expected  to  find.  He,  however, 
gave  me  another  prescription,  and  as  he  wrote  it  I 
wondered  how  he  would  act  if  he  knew  that  my  object 


THE  MILLIONAIRE'S  APPREHENSIONS       95 

in  becoming  his  patient  was  to  probe  the  mystery  of  the 
affair  in  Stretton  Street. 

I  had  at  least  gained  knowledge  of  his  intended  visit 
to  the  Villa  Clementini  unknown  to  the  butler,  Robertson. 
He  was  to  be  there  either  at  eleven  o'clock  that  night  or 
at  eleven  next  morning.  It  occurred  to  me  that  I  might 
possibly  learn  something  of  interest  if  I  watched  the 
doctor's  movements  at  the  hours  indicated. 

"  Your  symptoms  rather  puzzle  me,"  said  the  doctor 
at  last,  eyeing  me  from  beneath  his  bushy  black  brows. 
"  To  tell  the  truth,  I  fancy  you  must  have  eaten  something 
poisonous  at  one  of  the  restaurants.  They  sometimes 
use  tinned  food  which  is  not  quite  good,  and  it  sets  up 
irritant  poisoning.  I  had  a  case  very  similar  to  yours 
last  week.  The  climate  here  did  not  suit  him,  and  he 
has  returned  to  England." 

"  Oh !  I  hope  to  be  better  in  a  few  days,  doctor,"  I 
said  cheerfully,  for  I  was  anxious  for  another  oppor- 
tunity to  visit  him.  I  wanted  to  see,  and  if  possible  speak 
in  secret  with  the  girl  who  bore  such  a  striking  resem- 
blance to  the  dead  Gabrielle  Engledue. 

On  returning  to  the  hotel  I  rang  up  the  Villa  Clemen- 
tini and  inquired  for  Robertson.  In  a  few  moments  I 
spoke  to  him,  asking  if  he  were  coming  down  to  the 
Gambrinus. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  he  replied.  "  I  have  to  go  to  Pisa  by  the 
eight  o'clock  train.  But  I  shall  be  back  to-morrow  morn- 
ing." 

By  that  I  established  the  fact  that  Oswald  De  Gex 
had  an  appointment  with  Moroni  at  eleven  o'clock  that 
night,  and  not  on  the  following  morning. 

I  ate  my  dinner  at  Bonciani's,  near  the  station,  a  place 
little  patronized  by  foreigners,  but  where  one  obtains  the 
best  Tuscan  cooking — and  after  an  hour  or  so  over  coffee 


96    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

at  the  Bottegone,  I  took  a  taxi  up  to  Fiesole.  The  night 
was  cold  but  dry  and  moonlit.  As  we  ascended  the  steep 
hill  a  glorious  panorama  spread  before  us,  for  below 
lay  the  valley  of  the  Arno  with  the  twinkling  lights  of 
the  ancient  city,  and  the  great  pale  moon  upon  the  shim- 
mering river  rendering  it  like  a  scene  from  fairyland. 
And  as  we  went  up  beyond  San  Domenico,  through  those 
lands  which  in  spring  and  summer  are  so  fruitful  with 
their  vines  and  olives,  two  peasant  swains  passed,  chant- 
ing one  of  the  old  stornelli,  those  quaint  love-songs  of 
the  Tuscan  contadini — the  same  which  have  been  sung 
for  centuries  in  and  about  old  Firenze : 

Acqua  di  rio. 

Teco  sard  di  luglio  e  di  gennaio 

Dove  tu  muori  te,  morirb  anch'io. 

Tuscany  is  essentially  a  land  of  love,  where  the  fierce 
flame  of  affection  burns  in  the  hearts  of  all  the  people, 
and  where  a  hot  word  is  quickly  followed  by  a  knife- 
thrust,  and  jealousy  is  ever  cruel  and  unrelenting. 

Arriving  at  last  in  the  little  piazza,  at  Fiesole,  where  a 
number  of  people  were  awaiting  the  last  tram  to  take 
them  back  into  Florence,  I  alighted,  paid  the  man,  and  con- 
tinued my  journey  on  foot,  still  climbing  the  high  road 
which  led  through  the  chestnut  woods  of  Ricorbico,  until 
at  last  I  found  myself  at  the  corner  of  the  grounds  of 
the  Villa  Clementini,  close  to  a  pair  of  gates  of  mediaeval 
wrought-iron  which  closed  the  south  entrance  to  the 
magnificent  domain. 

On  either  side  of  the  road  were  high  walls  with  tall 
cypresses  behind  which  cast  their  deep  shadows  over 
the  highway,  rendering  it  dark  around  the  entrance. 
I  glanced  at  my  luminous  wrist  watch — a  relic  of  my  war 


THE  MILLIONAIRE'S  APPREHENSIONS        97 

service — and  found  that  it  still  wanted  ten  minutes  to 
eleven. 

Therefore  I  drew  back  beneath  the  wall,  and  in  the 
black  shadow  awaited  the  millionaire's  visitor  to  pass 
on  to  the  main  entrance. 

I  suppose  I  had  been  there  ten  minutes  or  so  when 
I  detected  approaching  footsteps  in  the  darkness,  and 
presently  the  doctor's  familiar  figure  appeared  in  the 
patch  of  moonlight,  only  to  be  swallowed  up  in  the  black 
shadows  a  moment  later.  Approaching  the  great  iron 
gates  which  were  a  side  entrance  to  the  grounds,  he 
drew  a  key  from  his  pocket,  unlocked  them  easily,  and 
passed  in  without,  however,  re-locking  them  after  him. 
His  visit  there  was  undoubtedly  a  secret  one,  or  De 
Gex  would  not  have  given  him  the  key  of  the  entrance  he 
used  himself,  nor  would  he  have  sent  away  his  butler, 
Robertson. 

The  visitor's  footsteps  suddenly  ceased,  for  he  was  un- 
doubtedly crossing  the  grass.  In  consequence,  I  stole 
on  tiptoe  up  to  the  gates,  and  entering,  saw  in  the  moon- 
light that  Moroni  was  stealing  along  in  the  opposite 
direction  to  the  great  country  mansion,  many  of  the 
windows  of  which  were  illuminated.  As  I  halted  my  ears 
caught  the  strains  of  orchestral  music.  A  waltz  was 
being  played,  for,  as  I  afterwards  knew,  a  gay  ball  was 
in  progress,  the  cars  entering  and  leaving  by  the  main 
carriage  road. 

A  few  seconds  later  I  crept  on  in  the  direction  the  doc- 
tor had  taken.  At  first  I  feared  that,  as  is  so  often  the 
case  in  Italy,  savage  dogs  might  be  kept  there  at  night  to 
attack  any  thief  or  intruder.  But  as  Moroni  had  entered 
so  boldly,  it  was  evident  that  if  any  were  kept  there  they 
were  that  evening  locked  up.  Hence,  I  went  forward 
in  confidence  until  I  came  to  the  edge  of  a  beautiful  lake 


98    THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

lying  unruffled  in  the  moonlight,  and  surrounded  by  many 
pieces  of  ancient  statuary,  most  of  them  moss-grown  and 
lichen-covered. 

As  I  turned  a  corner  there  came  into  view  a  large 
white  summer-house  with  a  domed  roof,  supported  by 
columns — a  kind  of  temple  such  as  one  often  finds  in  the 
gardens  of  ancient  Italian  villas.  The  marble-built  sum- 
mer-house, with  carved  escutcheons,  was  a  fashion  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  As  I  peered  forward  I  saw  Moroni 
walking  in  the  full  light,  approaching  the  place,  from 
which  a  dark  figure  emerged  and  came  forth  to  meet 
him. 

Instantly  I  again  halted,  and  straining  my  eyes  recog- 
nized that  the  man  who  was  in  evening  dress  was  the 
owner  of  that  palatial  home. 

They  retired  into  the  summer-house  together.  What, 
I  wondered,  was  the  object  of  that  secret  meeting? 

It  struck  me  that  perhaps  if  I  succeeded  in  approach- 
ing the  spot  I  might  overhear  some  of  their  confidential 
conversation,  therefore  I  stole  forward,  always  keeping 
in  the  shadow,  and  treading  upon  the  grass,  my  eyes  ever 
upon  my  goal. 

The  stillness  of  the  night  was  unbroken,  save  by  the 
harsh  clanging  of  the  convent  bell  down  at  San  Domenico, 
and  the  howl  of  a  distant  dog,  while  ever  and  anon  bursts 
of  dance  music  from  the  villa  reached  my  ears. 

At  last,  by  skirting  a  shrubbery  in  almost  pitch  dark- 
ness, and  scratching  my  hands  and  face  badly,  I  suc- 
ceeded in  gaining  the  rear  of  the  little  marble  temple,  and 
on  hearing  De  Gex's  voice  I  drew  back  and  waited,  scarce 
daring  to  breathe.  I  could  hear  my  own  heart  beat  as  I 
listened  intently  to  certain  words  distinctly  audible. 

"  Then  you  think  he  has  suspicions — eh,  Moroni  ? 
What  you  tell  me  is  interesting,  but  also  alarming." 


THE  MILLIONAIRE'S  APPREHENSIONS        99 

"  I  feel  certain  he  has.  He  would  not  have  consulted 
me  for  an  imaginary  ailment  were  it  not  so." 

"  Then  he  must  have  seen  her  somewhere  in  Florence 
and  recognized  her!  I  was  a  fool  to  suggest  that  she 
should  be  brought  here — so  near  to  me !  I  was  a  fool  to 
allow  him  to  slip  through  my  fingers !  " 

"  I  pointed  that  out  to  you  at  the  time,"  remarked 
the  Italian  doctor  with  a  sigh.  "  But  what  you  have 
just  shown  to  me  is  amazing.  I  never  dreamed  of  that !  " 

He  had  evidently  shown  him  something  in  the  moon- 
light. 

"  Well,  I  don't  intend  that  this  fellow  shall  pry  into 
my  affairs,"  snapped  the  millionaire.  I  recognized  that 
hard  metallic  voice  of  his,  and  it  recalled  to  me  all  those 
strange  happenings  on  that  November  night. 

"  I  do  not  really  see,  if  we  act  boldly,  what  we  have 
to  fear,"  said  the  doctor  in  his  very  fair  English. 

We !  Then  they  were  both  implicated  in  the  plot,  what- 
ever its  nature. 

"  Fear ! "  echoed  De  Gex.  "  Suppose  he  made  some 
very  compromising  statement  to  the  London  police." 

"  And  in  doing  so  he  would  compromise  himself !  He 
posed  as  a  medical  man,  and  gave  the  death  certificate 
in  return  for  payment— five  thousand  pounds.  Beyond, 
he  committed  forgery  by  signing  the  name  of  Gordon 
Garfield.  No,  Mr.  De  Gex,  I  feel  sure  he  will  never 
court  prosecution.  He  may  busy  himself  in  trying  to 
solve  what  no  doubt  appears  to  him  a  complete  enigma — 
as  indeed  it  is  to  us.  But  he  will  never  expose  us — 
never! " 

The  millionaire  grunted  dubiously. 

"  Well,  what  are  we  to  do  now  ?  What  do  you  sug- 
gest, Moroni?  Your  brain  is  always  so  fertile  where 
crooked  business  is  concerned." 


100        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  I  have  no  suggestion.     I  came  here  to  learn  yours." 

"  Yes.  I  called  you  here  to  show  you  what  I  have 
shown  you,  and  also  because  I  have  a  certain  person  here 
as  guest  at  my  wife's  dance  to-night — you  know  whom  I 
mean." 

"  Certainly.  She  is  equally  dangerous.  You  asked  me 
to  bring  the  little  tube.  Here  it  is.  But  I  urge  you  to 
use  it  with  extreme  caution.  When  you  break  the  glass 
be  certain  that  none  of  the  jelly  inside  touches  your 
fingers.  If  it  does,  wash  them  instantly  in  carbolic.  It 
is  highly  contagious." 

De  Gex  gave  vent  to  a  queer  laugh  of  satisfaction, 
as,  no  doubt,  he  took  the  mysterious  glass  tube  in  his 
hand. 

"  I  am  not  yet  certain  whether  to  try  the  experiment — 
or  not,"  he  remarked  with  hesitation. 

"  It  is,  to  say  the  least,  a  highly  dangerous  one." 

"  You  mean  dangerous  from  the  point  of  view  of  dis- 
covery— eh  ?  " 

"  No,  not  at  all.  Your  act  cannot  be  discovered,  but  it 
may  be  dangerous  for  yourself  and  those  about  you — 
highly  dangerous.  I  have  obeyed  your  orders,  signore, 
as  I  always  do,  and  I  have  brought  it.  But  my  sugges- 
tion is  that  you  should  not  break  that  tube  and  disperse 
its  contents." 

"  You  seem  to  be  growing  unusually  apprehensive,  my 
dear  Moroni.  The  appearance  in  Florence  of  this  young 
electrical  engineer  seems  to  have  quite  upset  you!"  he 
laughed  harshly.  I  could  hear  every  word. 

"  I  confess  his  presence  here  has  not  inspired  me  with 
confidence.  We  do  not  know  the  extent  of  his  knowledge, 
or  what  he  has  discovered,"  replied  the  doctor.  "If  he 
establishes  one  fact — you  know  to  what  I  refer — then 
he  will  become  a  very  grave  menace  to  us  both." 


THE  MILLIONAIRE'S  APPREHENSIONS      101 

"  But  surely  he  won't  dare  to  reveal  anything  for  his 
own  sake.  That  is  why  I  made  the  bribe  a  substantial 
one." 

"  If  he  established  that  one  fact  to  which  I  have  re- 
ferred, then  it  would  be  quite  within  the  bounds  of  pos- 
sibility that  he  might  face  the  music,  and  lay  bare  the 
whole  facts  of  the  mystery  of  Stretton  Street,"  Moroni 
remarked  in  a  rather  lower  tone.  "  At  present  I  think  he 
will  keep  a  still  tongue." 

"  Then  one  thing  is  quite  plain,"  said  the  millionaire. 
"  He  must  not  be  allowed  to  prosecute  his  inquiries  any 
further.  And  it  is  for  you,  Moroni,  to  rid  us  of  this  ever- 
growing menace.  If  he  is  allowed  to  go  on,  then  we 
siiall  one  day  awake  to  find  our  secret  revealed." 

"  I  quite  agree.    But  how  shall  we  act  ?  " 

"  Ah !  I  leave  that  to  you,"  replied  De  Gex.  "  You 
have  many  ways  and  means  within  your  power.  He  is 
*  patient  of  yours,"  he  added  grimly. 

"  Yes.  But  I  happen  to  know  that  he  is  sufficiently  wide 
awake  not  to  take  any  of  my  mixtures." 

"  Ah !  Then  he  suspects  you !  You  must  act  with 
greatest  caution,  Moroni.  Act  as  you  will,  but  we  must, 
at  all  costs,  get  rid  of  this  fellow." 

"  I  suggested  that  after  the  affair  at  Stretton  Street. 
It  would  then  have  been  so  very  easy." 

"  I  know !  I  was  a  fool !  I  did  not  foresee  the  conse- 
quences if  he  met  and  recognized  the  girl.  Even  now 
we  do  not  know  where  and  how  he  met  her.  But  the 
menace  to  us  is  the  same.  We  must  get  rid  of  him — 
and  quickly,  too!  The  trap  must  be  baited — and  what 
better  bait  than  the  girl  herself  ?  " 


CHAPTER  THE  EIGHTH 

LITTLE  MRS.  CULLERTON 

FOR  nearly  half  an  hour  Oswald  De  Gex  and  the  Italian 
doctor,  Moroni,  sat  chatting  in  the  darkness. 

De  Gex  apologized  to  his  visitor  for  not  offering  him 
a  cigarette,  remarking  that  the  striking  of  a  match  might 
reveal  their  presence  to  anyone  strolling  in  the  grounds, 
for  guests  at  dances  frequently  have  that  habit. 

"  Indeed,  after  you  have  gone,  Moroni,  I  am  meeting 
the  lady  whom  I  mentioned,  and  shall  walk  with  her 
outside  here.  I  want  to  speak  with  her  in  private." 

"  But  surely  that  is  dangerous ! "  exclaimed  the  doctor 
instantly. 

"Why?" 

"If  you  intend  to  act  as  you  say  you  should  not  hold 
any  clandestine  meeting  with  her,"  Moroni  suggested. 

"  I  shall  take  your  advice  and  preserve  this  little  tube 
intact,"  and  he  paused,  "  intact  at  least  for  the  present," 
he  added.  "  Hence  there  can  be  no  harm  in  leaving  the 
ballroom  and  coming  out  into  the  fresh  air — eh  ?  " 

"  In  that  case  I  see  no  risk." 

"  The  only  risk  we  run  is  in  allowing  young  Garfield 
to  make  inquiries  here,  in  Florence.  When  he  saw  me, 
I,  of  course,  denied  everything.  But  I  know  that  he  must 
have  noticed  how  upset  I  was  at  his  re-appearance." 

"  Well,  we  have  decided  to  suppress  him,  have  we 
not  ?  "  said  Moroni  briefly.  "  And  now  it  is  getting  late 
and  my  taxi  is  awaiting  me  down  in  Fiesole.  So  I  had 
better  be  going." 

102 


LITTLE  MRS.  CULLERTON  103 

"  Have  a  care  that  the  fellow  does  not  meet  her — not 
until  you  are  quite  prepared,"  the  millionaire  urged. 
"  And  lose  no  time  in  making  ready.  Each  day's  delay 
is  increasingly  dangerous." 

"  I  do  not  disregard  the  fact,  signore,"  replied  the 
Italian,  and  next  moment  they  emerged  from  the  little 
Greek  temple,  and  having  walked  a  short  distance,  they 
parted,  De  Gex  returning  to  the  house,  while  Moroni 
made  his  way  back  past  the  lake  to  the  gate. 

When  the  mysterious  millionaire  had  disappeared,  I 
approached  the  broad  terrace  which  ran  along  the  side 
of  the  house  from  which  such  a  wonderful  panorama  of 
the  Apennines  was  to  be  obtained.  If  he  brought  his 
lady  guest  out,  as  was  his  intention,  then  he  no  doubt 
would  descend  from  the  terrace,  for  I  saw  two  couples 
walking  there  as  I  approached. 

Beneath  a  tree  I  took  cover  and  waited — waited  to 
establish  the  identity  of  the  person  whom  he  had  marked 
down  as  his  next  victim. 

That  night  I  had  gained  much  knowledge  of  intense 
interest,  yet  it  all  served  to  puzzle  me  the  more. 

That  Tito  Moroni  was  his  accomplice  I  had  established 
beyond  doubt,  and  equally  that  there  had  been  a  grave 
and  deep-laid  conspiracy  against  me.  And  further,  it 
seemed  to  be  intended  that  I  should  again  meet  the  mys- 
terious pale-faced  girl  in  black,  and  that  the  meeting  was 
meant  to  be  fatal  to  me. 

Fortune  had  certainly  been  upon  my  side  that  night, 
otherwise  I  might  have  acted  in  good  faith  and  fallen 
into  some  cleverly-baited  trap.  That  the  doctor  of  the 
Via  Cavezzo  was  a  dangerous  malefactor  was  proved  by 
the  airy  manner  in  which  he  had  brought  to  his  rich 
client  that  little  glass  tube  which  I,  of  course,  had  not 


104        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

seen,  but  which  he  had  no  doubt  put  into  the  hands  of 
his  wealthy  and  unscrupulous  host. 

The  more  I  reflected  as  I  stood  beneath  the  great 
oleander,  the  more  puzzled  did  I  become.  What  was  it 
that  De  Gex  had  shown  the  doctor  beneath  the  pale  light 
of  the  moon  ?  It  was  evidently  something  which  greatly 
surprised  Moroni,  and  yet  he  had  made  but  little  com- 
ment concerning  it. 

But  the  chief  mystery  of  all  was  the  whereabouts  of 
that  poor  inert  girl  Gabrielle  Engledue.  I  waited,  eager 
for  the  return  of  the  tall,  well-set-up  man  in  evening 
clothes,  the  man  who  so  much  in  the  public  eye  was  en- 
gaged in  such  a  strange  career  of  wickedness  and  crime. 

It  seemed  incredible  that  the  immensely  rich  man  whose 
name  was  so  constantly  in  the  papers  as  a  generous  patron 
of  the  arts,  and  a  pious  philanthropist,  should  be  impli- 
cated in  such  devil's  doings  as  those  of  which  I  had 
already  proved  him  to  be  the  author. 

The  discordant  clanging  of  that  convent-bell  again 
aroused  me  to  a  sense  of  my  surroundings.  I  saw  upon 
the  terrace  before  me  several  men  strolling,  smoking 
cigarettes,  and  with  them  their  fair  "partners  wrapped  in 
rich  cloaks  and  furs.  They  had  come  out  after  supper 
to  admire  the  wonderful  moonlit  scene,  for  before  them 
rose  the  snow-tipped  mountains  in  a  long  serrated  range, 
the  high  Apennines  which  divide  the  Adriatic  from  the 
Mediterranean. 

Suddenly,  almost  before  I  was  aware  of  it,  a  man  and 
a  woman  passed  close  to  me.  The  figure  revealed  by  the 
cold  bright  moon  was  that  of  De  Gex,  who  had  now 
put  on  a  light  coat,  while  at  his  side  walked  a  slim,  tall 
young  woman  wrapped  warmly  in  a  rich  fur  coat.  The 
diamonds  in  her  fair  hair  gleamed  in  the  moonlight,  but 


LITTLE  MRS.  CULLERTON  105 

unfortunately  she  had  passed  into  the  shadow  before  I 
could  gain  a  glimpse  of  her  features. 

So  that  was  the  intended  victim — the  woman  to  whom 
the  dangerous  contents  of  that  tiny  glass  tube  was  one 
day,  sooner  or  later,  to  be  administered. 

They  went  forward  towards  the  edge  of  the  placid  lake, 
hence  I  sprang  upon  the  grass  and  followed  them  as 
noiseless  as  a  cat.  Little  did  the  owner  of  the  great 
Villa  Clementini  dream  that  I  was  lurking  in  such  close 
vicinity. 

They  halted  beside  one  of  the  ancient  statues  of  yellow 
marble,  a  heavy-limbed  representation  of  Bacchus 
crowned  with  vine  leaves,  where  they  admired  the  fairy- 
like  scene.  It  was  indeed  glorious.  Beneath  the  pale 
moonlight  lay  the  placid  lake  like  a'  mirror,  for  no  breath 
stirred  from  the  mountains,  and  beyond  in  the  mystic 
light  rose  the  snow-capped  peaks  far  away  beyond  the 
chestnut  forests  of  Vallombrosa. 

There  is  a  charm  in  all  seasons  and  at  all  hours  about 
those  ancient  villas  of  Tuscany ;  those  country  mansions 
of  the  nobles  which  have  seen  the  tramp  of  men  in  armour 
and  in  plush,  and  bear  upon  them  the  crumbling  escutch- 
eons of  races  which  have  been  rulers  for  five  centuries, 
and  whose  present  descendants  are  perhaps  waiters  in 
Paris,  London,  or  New  York. 

The  English  visitors  to  Florence  see  outside  the  Flor- 
ence Club  effeminate  elegants  in  English-made  suits  of 
blue  serge,  and  brown  boots,  and  they  sigh  to  think  that 
such  specimens  of  humanity  are  the  representatives  of 
a  noble  race.  Disguise  it  as  you  may,  poor  Italy  is 
sadly  decadent.  Her  glory  has  passed,  her  nobile  are 
ruined  and  her  labour  enemies  are,  alas !  bent  upon  put- 
ting her  into  the  melting-pot.  The  gallant  Italian  army 


106        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

fought  valiantly  against  the  Tedesci.  It  saved  Venice 
from  the  heel  of  the  invader  and  it  protected  Dalmatia, 
where  the  population  are  Italians.  But  Italy  to-day  is 
not  Italy  of  pre-war  days,  thanks  to  its  paid  agitators 
and  its  political  scandals. 

With  the  bright  moon  shining  across  the  huge  oleander 
beneath  which  I  had  again  taken  cover,  I  listened  intently. 
But  De  Gex  speaking  with  his  guest  was  too  far  off  for 
me  to  distinguish  anything  he  said. 

That  he  treated  her  with  the  greatest  courtesy  was  ap- 
parent. And  that  he  spoke  to  her  with  the  most  entire 
confidence  I  realized  by  my  own  observation. 

At  once  I  stole  noiselessly  forward  from  one  bush 
to  another  until  I  was  close  to  where  the  pair  stood.  I 
trod  softly  upon  the  grass,  my  ears  strained  to  catch 
any  word. 

The  words  I  at  last  caught  were  few  and  uncertain, 
for  De  Gex  was  speaking  in  a  low  and  highly  confidential 
tone. 

At  last,  however,  on  approaching  a  little  nearer,  I  heard 
him  exclaim: 

"  Jack,  your  husband,  is  a  young  fool !  He  has  no 
discretion.  He  gambles  on  the  Stock  Exchange  without 
any  expert  knowledge.  He  came  up  here  to  me  yesterday 
afternoon  and  told  me  that  he  must  have  ten  thousand 
pounds  to  tide  him  over,  and  prevent  him  being  ham- 
mered. I  sent  him  away,  but  I  shall  see  that  he  has  the 
money." 

"  How  really  good  of  you,  Mr.  De  Gex ! "  exclaimed 
the  girl — for  as  far  as  I  could  see  she  was  hardly  a 
woman.  "  I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you  sufficiently.  I 
know  Jack  is  a  born  gambler.  His  father  was  on  the 
Stock  Exchange  before  him,  and  I  suppose  games  of 
chance  are  in  the  breed  of  the  Cullertons." 


LITTLE  MRS.  CULLERTON  107 

"  Not  in  you,  I  hope,  Dorothy,"  replied  the  millionaire. 
"  You  have  had  the  misfortune  to  marry  a  gambler,  and 
— well,  my  dear  girl — I  pity  you.  Gambling  is  worse 
than  drink.  The  drunkard  can  be  sickened  and  put  off, 
but  the  gambler  never.  Now  I  want  you  to  promise  me 
one  thing." 

"What  is  that?"  she  asked. 

"  I  shall  see  that  he  has  the  money.  But  it  will  come 
through  a  second  party,  not  through  me.  I  do  not  wish 
to  appear  to  lend  him  money,  otherwise  he  will  still 
continue  his  speculations,  feeling  that  he  has  me  behind 
him.  Now  you  know  the  truth,  Dorothy.  But  you  must 
promise  me  to  say  nothing.  Nobody  must  know — not 
even  my  wife." 

"  Oh !  how  very  good  of  you  to  help  Jack  out  of  a 
hole !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Of  course  I'll  remain  silent. 
But  it  really  is  awfully  kind  of  you.  I  don't  know  how 
to  thank  you." 

"  I  will  do  it  for  your  sake,  Dorothy,"  said  De  Gex, 
bending  to  her  in  confidence.  "  I  am  indebted  to  you — 
remember !  " 

"  Ah !  no !  "  cried  the  young  woman,  whose  name  ap- 
parently was  Cullerton.  "No!  Please  don't  refer  to 
that  terrible  affair !  " 

Her  voice  betrayed  emotion  and  apprehension,  while 
at  that  moment,  as  she  turned  her  face  to  the  light  of 
the  moon,  I  was  able  to  get  a  full  view  of  it.  It  was 
that  of  a  very  beautiful  young  woman  of  about  twenty- 
three,  rather  petite,  with  fair  bobbed  hair,  regular  fea- 
tures, and  sweet  lips.  But  the  expression  upon  her  coun- 
tenance was  one  of  fear  and  apprehension. 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  remember  it,"  said  her  host.  "  We 
agreed  at  the  time  that  it  should  be  silence  for  silence. 
It  was  a  bargain  which  we  have  kept  ever  since.  You 


108        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

have  married  Jack  Cullerton,  and  you  are  happy  except 
that  your  husband  is  a  born  gambler.  And  of  that  he 
must  be  cured." 

"  I  know.  I  know !  "  she  said  hastily.  "  But  earlier 
this  evening  you  promised  to  tell  me  about  Gabrielle.  I 
must  see  her.  She  seems  to  have  disappeared.  Where 
is  she?" 

"  In  London,  I  believe." 

"  In  London !  Yet  the  last  time  you  spoke  of  her  you 
said  she  was  in  Turin,  on  her  way  here,  to  Florence." 

Oswald  De  Gex  laughed  lightly. 

"  Yes.  She  came  to  Florence  for  a  few  days,  but  she 
has  returned  to  London.  Why  are  you  so  anxious  to 
see  her?  " 

"  I  want  to  see  her  about  a  matter  which  concerns  Jack 
and  myself — that's  all,"  replied  young  Mrs.  Cullerton. 

"  May  I  not  know?  "  asked  her  host. 

"  It  is  a  purely  private  matter,"  was  her  reply. 

Then  from  the  conversation  that  followed,  it  seemed 
as  though  the  millionaire  was  apprehensive  lest  she  should 
meet  the  mysterious  Gabrielle,  and  I  wondered  whether  it 
was  in  order  to  prevent  them  meeting  that  he  entertained 
designs  upon  her  life. 

I  recollected  that  little  glass  tube  which  he  was  carry- 
ing in  secret  in  his  pocket,  and  which  the  scoundrelly 
Italian  had  urged  him  to  refrain  from  using  because 
he  might  place  his  own  life  in  jeopardy. 

I  listened  to  every  word.  De  Gex  was  evidently  most 
anxious  to  know  why  she  sought  Gabrielle  so  eagerly. 
And  Gabrielle,  I  could  only  surmise,  was  the  girl  I 
had  seen  stark  and  dead  in  that  handsome  room  in  Stret- 
ton  Street. 

That  night  of  watchfulness  had  borne  fruit.  I  had 
learnt  from  De  Gex's  own  lips  that  another  deep  and 


LITTLE  MRS.  CULLERTON  109 

subtle  trap  was  to  be  laid  for  me — a  trap  baited  with  the 
tragic-faced  girl  herself.  Further,  I  had  established  that 
he  intended  that,  sooner  or  later,  an  accident  should  befall 
the  dainty  little  woman  in  that  rich  ermine  cloak,  the 
woman  with  whom  he  was  chatting  so  affably.  Also 
I  had  learned  her  identity,  and  it  now  remained  for  me 
to  forewarn  her  of  what  was  intended. 

The  rich  Englishman  had  talked  for  about  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  with  Dorothy  Cullerton,  when  at  last  they 
returned  to  the  house,  while  I  made  my  way  in  the  dark- 
ness back  to  the  gate.  When  I  arrived,  however,  I  found 
that  Moroni  had  locked  it  after  him.  I  was  therefore 
compelled  to  climb  the  wrought  ironwork,  and  after  sev- 
eral unsuccessful  attempts  succeeded  in  regaining  the 
road. 

It  was  long  past  midnight  ere  I  found  myself  back  in 
Fiesole,  but  I  discovered  a  belated  cab,  and  in  it  I  drove 
back  to  Florence,  full  of  grave  reflections. 

On  the  following  day  I  bought  in  the  Via  Tornabuoni 
an  English  newspaper  which  publishes  weekly  a  list  of 
visitors  to  Florence,  and  from  it  discovered  that  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Cullerton  were  living  at  the  Villa  Tassi,  out 
at  Montaguto,  about  three  miles  from  the  Porta  Romana, 
on  the  opposite  side  of  Florence.  That  same  morning 
I  took  the  steam  tram  from  the  Piazza  della  Signorina,  and 
after  three  miles  of  dusty  road,  alighted  at  a  spot  beyond 
the  little  village  of  Galluzzo  in  the  Val  d'Ema.  Crossing 
the  brook  I  soon  began  to  ascend  the  hill  of  Montaguto 
— a  pretty  eminence  clothed  with  cypresses  and  olives — 
and  was  not  long  in  discovering  the  neat,  newly-built  little 
villa,  one  of  a  number  which  are  let  furnished  each 
season  to  wealthy  foreigners.  I  noted  as  I  passed  that 
it  was  well-kept,  that  the  garden  was  bright  with  flowers, 
even  though  it  was  winter,  and  that  in  the  garage  was  a 


110        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

small  light  car  which  at  the  moment  was  being  washed 
by  an  English  chauffeur. 

I  longed  to  have  some  excuse  to  call  upon  Mrs.  Culler- 
ton,  but  could  think  of  none.  Therefore  I  returned  to 
Florence  and  pursued  fresh  tactics.  The  afternoon  I 
spent  making  inquiries  regarding  the  Cullertons,  and  soon 
discovered  that  they  were  intimate  friends  of  Monsieur 
Rameil,  the  French  Consul,  and  his  wife. 

With  this  knowledge  I  lost  no  time  in  obtaining  an 
introduction  to  the  French  Consul,  and  three  days  later 
received  a  card  for  one  of  Madame's  Friday  afternoons. 
Naturally  I  went,  and  to  my  delight  Mrs.  Cullerton  was 
there  also.  She  was  a  strikingly  pretty  young  woman, 
and  apparently  extremely  popular,  judging  by  the  man- 
ner in  which  two  or  three  young  Italian  elegants  danced 
attendance  upon  her.  Shortly  before  I  left  my  hostess 
introduced  me  to  her,  and  naturally  I  endeavoured  to 
make  myself  extremely  agreeable.  But  was  not  the  situa- 
tion a  strange  one?  And  this  pretty  woman  had  been 
marked  down  for  destruction  by  the  mysterious  million- 
aire, just  as  I  had  been ! 

Yet  had  I  told  anyone  of  the  knowledge  I  had  gained 
I  would  not  have  been  believed,  any  more  than  would 
credence  have  been  given  to  the  story  of  my  strange 
adventure  in  Stretton  Street. 

We  chatted  for  perhaps  ten  minutes.  She  asked  me 
where  I  was  staying  and  how  long  I  should  be  in  Flor- 
ence, and  then,  expressing  a  hope  that  we  should  meet 
again,  I  bowed  and  left  her. 

I  had  accomplished  one  step  towards  ascertaining  the 
identity  of  the  girl  I  had  seen  dead  in  London. 

Several  days  passed,  during  which  I  kept  a  good  look 
out  in  the  streets  for  sight  of  Doctor  Moroni's  fair  com- 


LITTLE  MRS.  CULLERTON  111 

panion.  But  I  was  not  successful.  Perhaps  she  had  gone 
to  London,  as  my  host  of  Stretton  Street  had  asserted ! 
One  afternoon,  while  haunting  the  streets,  I  suddenly 
encountered  Mrs.  Cullerton  walking  in  the  Via  Torna- 
buoni,  and,  raising  my  hat,  stopped  to  speak. 

After  a  few  seconds  she  recognized  me,  and  I  walked 
at  her  side  chatting.  Her  car  was  waiting  in  the  Piazza 
Santa  Trinita,  but  before  she  entered  it  she  had  promised 
to  send  me  a  card  for  a  little  "  at  home  "  she  was  giving 
on  the  following  Thursday. 

Now,  not  until  we  had  parted  did  it  occur  to  me  that 
De  Gex  might  be  also  going  there.  In  that  case  he  cer- 
tainly should  not  meet  me.  So  I  sought  Robertson's 
aid  concerning  his  master's  engagements,  and  discovered 
that  on  Thursday  morning  the  millionaire  was  going  to 
Leghorn  to  join  his  yacht  for  a  week's  cruise  across  to 
Algiers. 

Therefore  I  accepted  Mrs.  Cullerton's  invitation,  and 
found  at  the  villa  a  number  of  pleasant,  cosmopolitan 
people,  whom  I  had  already  met  at  the  French  Consul's. 
I  was  introduced  by  my  hostess  to  her  husband,  Jack, 
a  smartly-dressed  man,  and  a  typical  young  member  of 
the  Stock  Exchange.  Afterwards  I  succeeded  in  having 
quite  a  long  conversation  with  his  wife. 

Quite  casually  I  mentioned  the  Villa  Clementini,  and 
its  owner. 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?  "  she  asked  with  interest.  "  He 
is  such  a  dear,  generous  old  thing." 

"  I  have  met  him  once,"  I  replied  with  affected  un- 
concern.   "  They  say  he's  a  little  eccentric — don't  they?  " 
"  His  enemies  say  that,"  she  replied,  "  but  his  friends 
are  full  of  praise  of  him.     He's  the  most  charming  and 
generous  of  men,  and  his  great  wealth  allows  him  to 


112         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

perform  all  sorts  of  kind  actions.  They  say  that  he 
can't  refuse  anybody  who  asks  for  his  influence  or 
help." 

I  reflected  that  his  influence  was  certainly  a  baneful 
one. 

"'Ah!  I  see  you  are  one  of  his  friends,  Mrs.  Culler- 
ton  !  "  I  said,  laughing. 

"  Yes —  I  confess  I  am." 

"  Then  would  you  be  surprised  if  I  told  you  in  strictest 
confidence  that  he  is  not  your  friend,  but  one  of  your 
bitterest  enemies !  "  I  said,  lowering  my  voice,  and  look- 
ing straight  into  her  w^de-open  blue  eyes. 

"  I  don't  understand  you,  Mr.  Garfield !  "  she  said,  also 
lowering  her  voice. 

"  I  will  explain  one  day,  Mrs.  Cullerton — one  day  when 
we  are  alone." 

"When?"  she  whispered,  for  Madame  Remeil  was 
approaching  at  the  moment. 

"  Whenever  you  like  to  make  an  appointment,"  I  re- 
plied. "  Only  I  must  first  hold  you  to  absolute  secrecy." 

"  That's  agreed,"  whispered  the  pretty  young  woman. 
"  To-morrow.  I  will  be  here  alone  at  three  o'clock,"  and 
then  she  held  out  her  hand,  and  aloud  said  : 

"  Good-bye,  Mr.  Garfield.  So  sorry  you  have  to  run 
away  so  early.  Good-bye !  " 


CHAPTER  THE  NINTH 

SOME  PLAIN  SPEAKING 

PUNCTUALLY  at  three  o'clock  next  afternoon  the  buxom 
Italian  maid  in  dainty  apron,  ushered  me  into  Mrs.  Cul- 
lerton's  charming  salone.  From  the  long  windows  a 
magnificent  view  spread  away  across  the  green  valley 
of  the  Ema  to  the  great  monastery  of  the  Certosa,  a  huge 
mediaeval  pile  which  resembled  a  mediaeval  fortress  stand- 
ing boldly  against  the  background  of  the  rolling  Apen- 
nines. 

Scarcely  had  I  stood  there  a  moment  when  my  blue- 
eyed  young  hostess,  in  a  becoming  black-and-cherry  frock, 
entered,  and  greeting  me,  closed  the  door. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Garfield  ?  It's  really  awfully  good  of  you 
to  trouble  to  come  out  to  see  me.  I'm  all  excitement 
to  know  what  you  have  to  tell  me  about  Mr.  De  Gex. 
He's  gone  yachting — as  you  perhaps  know.  Do  sit 
down." 

As  I  did  so  she  passed  me  the  cigarettes,  and  took 
one  herself.  Then,  when  I  had  held  the  match  for  her 
and  had  lit  my  own,  I  said: 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Cullerton,  I  really  don't  know  how  to 
commence.  Somehow,  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  come  here 
to  see  you.  I  must  admit  that  I  have  been  manoeuvring 
for  several  days  in  order  to  get  an  introduction  to  you, 
and  to  obtain  an  opportunity  of  seeing  you  alone.  And 
yet " 

"  Yes.  I  quite  see  that.  I  thought  by  your  attitude  in 

113 


114        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

the  Via  Tornabuoni  that  you  seemed  very  anxious  to 
know  me,"  and  her  lips  relaxed  into  a  pretty  smile. 

"  That  is  so.  In  order  to — well,  to  warn  you,"  I  said 
very  seriously. 

"  Warn  me !— of  what,  pray  ?  " 

I  hesitated.  To  be  perfectly  frank  with  her  was,  I 
saw,  quite  impossible.  She  might  hear  all  I  said  and  then 
inform  De  Gex.  She  was  his  friend.  Or  perhaps  she 
would  dismiss  me  and  my  story  as  pure  invention.  Hence 
I  resolved  to  preserve  my  own  secret  concerning  the 
Stretton  Street  Affair. 

Looking  straight  into  her  face,  I  said : 

"  I'm  here  to  warn  you  of  a  very  grave  personal  dan- 
ger." 

"  You  are  really  most  alarming,  Mr.  Garfield,"  she  said 
in  suspicion.  "  In  what  danger  am  I  ?  " 

"  You  are  either  in  possession  of  some  ugly  fact  con- 
cerning Mr.  De  Gex  which  he  desires  suppressed,  or  else 
you  bar  his  way  to  some  ambitious  achievement." 

Her  face  changed,  and  she  held  her  breath.  Though 
it  was  only  for  a  second  I  saw  that  what  I  had  suggested 
was  the  truth.  Her  slim  white  hand  twitched  nervously 
upon  her  lap. 

"  Some  fact  concerning  Mr.  De  Gex ! "  she  gasped 
in  feigned  surprise.  "  Who  told  you  that !  "  she  asked, 
her  face  blanching. 

"  I  have  not  been  told.  But  I  know  it,  Mrs.  Culler- 
ton,"  was  my  reply.  "  I  know  that,  though  De  Gex  is 
assisting  your  husband  out  of  a  financial  difficulty  and 
pretends  to  be  your  good  friend,  he  views  you  as  his 
bitter  enemy — as  a  person  whose  lips  must,  at  all  hazards, 
be  closed." 

"  Really,  Mr.  Garfield,  what  you  say  is  too  extra- 
ordinary— too  amazing !  I  don't  understand  you !  " 


SOME  PLAIN  SPEAKING  115 

"  I  know  it  sounds  most  extraordinary,"  I  said.  "  But 
first  tell  me  if  you  know  a  certain  Doctor  Moroni,  who 
lives  in  the  Via  Cavezzo  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  The  doctor  attends  Mr.  De  Gex  and  his 
family.  I  first  met  him  in  London,  about  a  year  ago. 
Mr.  De  Gex  holds  him  in  very  high  esteem." 

"  Ah !    Then  you  know  the  doctor." 

"  Of  course.  When  he  was  in  London  he  several  times 
came  to  our  house  in  Fitzjohn's  Avenue." 

"  And  your  husband  knows  him  ? "  I  asked,  looking 
her  straight  in  the  face.  "  Please  tell  me  the  truth,"  I 
urged. 

"  No.    Jack  has  neve*-  met  him — not  to  my  knowledge." 

I  was  silent  for  a  few  seconds.  I  had  established  a 
fact  which  I  had  all  along  suspected. 

"  Then  he  called  in  the  daytime,  when  your  husband 
was  in  the  City — eh  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Now  tell  me,  did  you  ever  have  any  strange  illness 
after  Doctor  Moroni  had  called  ? "  I  inquired  very 
seriously. 

"  Illness  ?  Why,  no !  Why  do  you  ask  such  a  curious 
question  ?  " 

"  I  have  reasons  for  asking  it,  Mrs.  Cullerton,"  was  my 
reply.  "  I  have  called  here  as  your  friend,  remember." 

"  But  all  this  is  most  bewildering,"  she  exclaimed  with 
a  nervous  little  laugh.  "  Why  should  I  be  in  any  personal 
peril?" 

"  Because  you  know  something  to  the  detriment  of 
that  wealthy  and  somewhat  eccentric  man,"  I  replied. 
"  Pardon  me  if  I  put  another  question  to  you.  Are  you 
acquainted  with  a  girl  named  Gabrielle  Engledue?" 

"  Gabrielle  Engledue  ?  "  she  repeated.     "  No,  I  have 


116         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

never  heard  the  name.  I  know  a  Gabrielle — Gabrielle 
Tennison — an  old  schoolfellow  of  mine." 

"A  tall,  dark-haired  girl?" 

"  Yes,  she  is  rather  tall,  and  dark-haired." 

"  Isn't  her  real  name  Engledue  ?  "  I  asked  quickly. 

"  Not  to  my  knowledge." 

"  Is  she  not  Mr.  De  Gex's  niece? " 

"  He  has  no  niece,  has  he  ? — except,  of  course,  Lady 
Shalford,  whom  I  know  quite  well." 

"Where  is  Gabrielle  Tennison?" 

"  In  London — I  believe." 

"  Are  you  certain  she  is  not  here,  in  Florence  ?  " 

"  Mr.  De  Gex  told  me  that  she  came  to  Florence  for 
a  few  days " 

"To  visit  him— eh?" 

"  I  suppose  so.     But  she  has  returned  to  London." 

"  Do  you  know  her  address  in  London,"  I  asked  very 
anxiously.  "  I  ask  you  this  in  our  mutual  interests,  Mrs. 
Cullerton,"  I  added  confidentially. 

"  Yes.  She  lives  with  her  mother  in  a  maisonette  in 
Longridge  Road,  Earl's  Court,  I  forget  the  number,  but 
you  could  easily  find  out." 

"  And  she  is  there  now,  I  presume  ?  " 

"  I  expect  so — if  what  Mr.  De  Gex  has  told  me  is  the 
truth." 

"  But  will  he  ever  tell  you  the  truth  ? "  I  queried. 
"  Recollect  that  although  he  poses  as  your  husband's 
friend,  he  is  nevertheless  your  enemy — because  he  fears 
you !  Why  is  that  ?  " 

The  pretty  wife  of  the  young  London  stockbroker 
hesitated.  I  saw  that  she  was  much  perturbed  by  my 
question. 

"  I  suppose  he  suspects  that  I  know  certain  things," 
was  her  low,  hard  reply.  "  But  he  has  been  very  good 


SOME  PLAIN  SPEAKING  117 

to  Jack  on  several  occasions.  He  has  prevented  him 
from  being  hammered  on  the  Stock  Exchange,  therefore 
I  can  only  be  grateful  to  him." 

I  looked  the  pretty  woman  straight  in  the  face,  and 
said: 

"  Grateful !  Grateful  to  a  man  whose  dastardly  inten- 
tion is,  when  the  whim  takes  him,  to  send  you  to  your 
grave,  Mrs.  Cullerton  ?  " 

"  I — I  really  don't  know  what  you  mean.  Are  you 
mad?  Do  be  more  explicit,"  she  cried.  "Why  do  you 
make  these  terrible  allegations  against  Mr.  De  Gex  ?  " 

"  Please  recollect,  Mrs.  Cullerton,  that  I  am  here  first  in 
your  interests,  and  secondly  in  my  own.  You  and  I 
are  now  both  marked  down  as  victims,  because  both  of 
us  are  in  possession  of  certain  knowledge  which  would, 
if  exposed,  bring  obloquy  and  prosecution  upon  an  ex- 
ceedingly wealthy  man.  Your  husband,  yourself,  and 
myself,  are  merely  pawns  in  the  clever  game  which  this 
man  is  playing — a  mysterious  game,  I  admit,  and  one  in 
which  he  is  actively  assisted  by  Doctor  Maroni — but  also 
one  in  which,  if  we  are  not  both  very  wary,  we  shall 
find  ourselves  the  victims  of  fatal  circumstances." 

My  words  seemed  to  impress  the  stockbroker's  wife, 
for  she  asked:  "  Well— what  shall  I  do?" 

"  Be  perfectly  frank  with  me,"  I  replied  promptly. 
"  Both  of  us  have  all  to  lose  if  we  close  our  eyes  to  the 
conspiracy  against  us  on  the  part  of  your  friend  De  Gex 
and  his  shrewd  and  unscrupulous  accomplice,  Tito  Mo- 
roni." 

"  Moroni  is  one  of  the  most  popular  doctors  in  Flor- 
ence," she  remarked. 

"  I'm  perfectly  aware  of  that,"  was  my  reply.  "  But 
there  is  no  more  dangerous  criminal  than  the  medical 
man  who  is  beneath  the  thumb  of  a  millionaire.  There 


118        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

have  been  several  before  the  assizes  in  various  cities  of 
Europe.  Many,  thanks  alas !  to  the  power  of  gold,  have 
never  been  unmasked.  There  have  been  cases  in  Hungary, 
in  France,  in  Italy,  and  in  Russia — even  one  case  in  Eng- 
land which  is  recorded  in  a  big  file  at  Scotland  Yard.  But 
in  that  case  there  was  no  prosecution  because  money 
means  influence,  and  influence  means  the  breaking  of 
those  in  office  who  dare  to  oppose  it." 

"  Then  how  do  you  suggest  that  I  should  act,  Mr. 
Garfield  ?  "  asked  young  Mrs.  Cullerton.  "  It  is  distress- 
ing news  to  me  that  Mr.  De  Gex  is  my  enemy — and  I  con- 
fess that  at  present  I  can  scarcely  credit  it." 

I  longed  to  unbosom  myself  to  her — to  tell  her  of  all 
that  had  occurred  to  me  since  that  fateful  November 
night  when  I  had  passed  through  Stretton  Street,  but 
I  was  not  yet  fully  confident  concerning  her  attitude 
towards  me.  It  might  be  hostile.  She  might  seek  De  Gex 
when  he  returned  from  Algiers  and  tell  him  of  our  inter- 
view !  If  she  did,  then  all  hope  of  elucidating  the  mys- 
tery of  Gabrielle  Engledue's  death  would  be  at  once 
swept  away. 

Yet  I  held  before  me  the  fact  that  the  millionaire,  hand- 
in-glove  with  that  scoundrelly  Italian,  intended  to  cast 
me  into  my  grave.  The  Italians  have  all  through  the 
centuries  been  experts  in  secret  assassination.  The  Doges 
of  Venice,  the  Borgias,  and  the  Medici  have  all  had 
secret  poisoners  in  their  pay.  The  gay,  careless  race 
which  laughs  when  the  sun  shines,  are  just  the  same  to- 
day, after  the  war,  as  they  were  in  the  days  of  His 
Holiness  Rodrigo  Borgia.  To-day  your  superstitious 
Italian  criminal  enters  the  church  and  prays  to  the  Ma- 
donna that  his  coup — whatever  it  may  be,  from  profiteer- 
ing, picking  pockets,  or  the  secret  assassination  of  an 
enemy — may  be  successful. 


SOME  PLAIN  SPEAKING  119 

"  I  allege  that  Mr.  De  Gex  is  your  enemy,  Mrs.  Culler- 
ton,"  I  said.  "  I  have  first-hand  knowledge  of  it.  Indeed, 
on  the  night  of  the  ball  at  the  Villa  Clementini,  he  had  in 
his  pocket  the  wherewithal  to  bring  upon  you  an  illness 
which  must  inevitably  prove  fatal.  He  had  a  little  glass 
tube  which  he  had  ordered  Moroni  to  prepare,  but  which 
the  doctor  himself  urged  him  not  to  break  for  fear  of  in- 
fecting himself  and  his  family." 

She  sat  staring  at  me  open-mouthed. 

"  I — I  really  can't  believe  it!  "  she  gasped.  "  Mr.  De 
Gex  would  never  act  in  such  a  dastardly  manner  towards 
me.  We  are  friends — old  friends." 

"  You  may  be,  but  I  happen  to  know  the  truth,"  I 
declared.  "  He  pretends  friendship  towards  you,  but  his 
intentions  are  that  your  lips  shall  be  closed.  For  some 
reason  he  fears  you." 

"  Are  you  really  quite  serious  ? "  she  asked,  looking 
me  full  in  the  face. 

"  I  certainly  am,"  I  replied.  "  The  reason  I  am  here 
is  to  warn  you  to  have  a  care  of  yourself.  That  some 
evil  is  intended,  I  know.  Only  I  rely  upon  you  to  keep 
the  information  I  have  given  you  to  yourself.  Watch 
De  Gex,  but  say  nothing — not  a  word" 

"  I  have  already  promised  that  I  will  remain  silent," 
she  remarked. 

"  You  must  also  say  no  word  to  your  husband.  He  is 
indebted  to  De  Gex,  hence  he  might  tell  him  what  I  have 
said.  And  further,  my  name  must  never  be  mentioned  to 
De  Gex." 

"Why  not?" 

"  He  would  instantly  guess  the  source  of  your  infor- 
mation." 

"  But  what  is  your  motive  for  all  this,  Mr.  Garfield?  " 

"  My  motive  is  a  simple  one.     I  am  trying  to  find 


120        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

Gabrielle  Engledue,  and  I  am  now  wondering  whether 
the  girl  I  am  seeking  is  not  the  same  as  the  young  lady 
you  know  as  Gabrielle  Tennison." 

"  Where  did  you  meet  this  girl  Engledue?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Cullerton,  with  a  queer  inquisitive  look. 

I  paused  for  a  second. 

"  In  London — at  the  house  of  a  mutual  friend." 

Her  expression  caused  me  to  ponder,  for  I  discerned 
that  she  was  inclined  to  doubt  me. 

"  And  why  are  you  seeking  her  now  ?  " 

"  I  have  a  distinct  object  in  view." 

"  You've — well,  perhaps  you've  fallen  in  love  with 
her — eh  ?  "  she  laughed  lightly. 

"  Not  at  all,"  I  assured  her.  "  I  have  a  private,  but 
very  strong,  motive  in  discovering  her.  I  want  to  put  to 
her  certain  questions." 

"  About  what,  Mr.  Garfield  ?  Come,  it  is  now  my  turn 
to  be  a  little  inquisitive,"  and  she  laughed  again. 

"  About  a  certain  little  matter  in  which  we  are  mutually 
interested,"  was  my  evasive  answer.  Then,  after  a  pause, 
I  looked  straight  into  her  eyes,  and  added  very  earnestly : 
"  I  wonder  whether  if  I  should  require  your  help,  Mrs. 
Cullerton,  you  would  assist  me  ?  " 

"In  what  way?" 

"  At  present  I  cannot  tell.  To  be  frank,  I  am  striving 
to  solve  a  great  and  inscrutable  mystery.  Just  now  I  am 
amazed  and  bewildered.  But  I  feel  that  you  are  the  only 
person  who  could  help  me — because  you  and  I  are  equally 
in  peril." 

"  But,  Mr.  Garfield,  I  see  no  reason  why  I  should  be 
upon  the  brink  of  this  mysterious  abyss ! "  she  cried. 
"  You  don't  explain  the  situation  sufficiently  fully." 

"  Because  at  present  I  cannot  do  so.  No  one  regrets 
it  more  than  myself.  There  is  a  grim  mystery — a  very 


SOME  PLAIN  SPEAKING  121 

great  mystery — and  I  intend,  with  your  assistance,  to 
escape  my  enemy  and  clear  it  up." 

"  Who  is  your  enemy  ?  " 

"  Oswald  De  Gex !  He  is  my  enemy  as  well  as  yours," 
I  said  very  seriously.  "  If  you  were  in  the  possession  of 
such  facts  as  those  I  have  gathered  during  the  past  week 
or  so,  you  would  be  startled  and — well,  perhaps  terrified. 
But  I  only  again  beg  of  you  to  have  a  care  of  yourself. 
You  have  promised  silence,  and  I,  on  my  part,  will  carry 
on  my  search  for  the  truth." 

"The  truth  of  what?" 

"  The  truth  concerning  Gabrielle  Engledue." 

The  pretty  little  woman  again  looked  at  me  very 
straight  in  the  face  for  some  moments  without  speaking. 
Then,  with  a  strange  hardness  about  her  mouth,  she  said : 

"  Mr.  Garfield,  take  it  from  me,  you  will  never  dis- 
cover what  you  are  in  search  of.  The  truth  is  too  well 
hidden." 

"  What  ?  Then  you  know  something — eh  ?  "  I  cried 
quickly. 

"  Yes.  It  is  true !  "  she  answered  in  a  low,  hard  voice. 
"  I  do  know  something — something  of  a  certain  secret 
that  can  never  pass  my  lips !  " 


CHAPTER  THE  TENTH 

MONSIEUR  SUZOR  AGAIN 

MRS.  CULLERTON'S  words  held  me  breathless. 

At  first  I  believed  that  I  might  wring  the  truth  from 
her  lips,  but  I  quickly  saw  that  she  intended  to  preserve 
her  secret  at  all  costs.  Whether  she  actually  believed 
what  I  had  told  her  concerning  her  own  peril  was  doubt- 
ful. In  any  case,  she  seemed  in  some  strange  manner 
held  powerless  and  fascinated  by  the  rich  man  who  had 
saved  her  speculating  husband  from  ruin. 

I  remained  there  for  still  another  quarter  of  an  hour 
until  her  maid  announced  a  visitor,  when  I  was  compelled 
to  rise  and  take  my  leave. 

For  a  few  days  longer  I  remained  in  Florence ;  then  I 
left  for  London.  On  entering  the  Calais  express  at  the 
Gare  du  Nord  in  Paris  on  my  way  home,  I  was  agreeably 
surprised  to  find  among  my  fellow  travellers  to  England 
the  affable  French  banker  whom  I  had  met  on  that  mem- 
orable journey  from  York  to  London.  He  recognized 
me  at  once,  and  I  inquired  why  he  was  not,  as  usual, 
crossing  by  air  to  Croydon. 

"  Ah !  "  he  laughed.  "  The  last  time  I  crossed  three 
weeks  ago  we  went  into  a  thick  fog  over  the  Channel, 
and  it  was  not  very  comfortable.  So  I  prefer  the  rail 
just  now." 

On  this  occasion  we  exchanged  cards.  His  name  was 
Gaston  Suzor,  and  between  Paris  and  Calais  we  discussed 
many  things,  for  he  was  a  well-informed  man  and  a  true 
hater  of  the  Boches.  On  the  steamer  we  strolled  upon 


MONSIEUR  SUZOR  AGAIN  123 

the  deck  together,  and  we  passed  quite  a  pleasant  journey 
in  company.  He  was  surprised  that  I  had  been  in  Italy, 
but  I  explained  that  I  had  been  granted  long  leave  of 
absence  by  my  firm,  and  that  I  had  gone  to  Florence  upon 
private  affairs. 

We  parted  at  Charing  Cross,  Monsieur  Suzor  to  go  to 
the  Carlton,  and  I  home  to  our  little  flat  in  Rivermead 
Mansions. 

A  note  lay  upon  the  dining-room  table.  Hambledon  was 
away  in  Cardiff,  and  he  had  left  word  in  case  I  should 
return  unexpectedly.  The  place  was  cold  and  fireless,  and 
I  was  glad  to  go  over  to  the  Claredon  to  have  my  dinner. 

My  one  thought  was  of  Gabrielle  Tennison,  who  lived 
with  her  mother  in  a  maisonette  at  Earl's  Court.  So  I 
took  a  taxi  to  Longridge  Road,  and  after  numerous  in- 
quiries at  neighbouring  shops  in  Earl's  Court  Road,  I 
discovered  in  which  house  lived  Mrs.  Tennison  and  her 
daughter.  The  hour  was  late,  therefore  I  felt  that  it 
was  useless  to  keep  observation  upon  the  place  in  the 
hope  of  the  girl  coming  forth. 

I  had  no  excuse  to  make  a  call.  Besides,  I  might,  if 
I  acted  indiscreetly,  destroy  all  my  chances  of  solving 
the  strange  enigma. 

Therefore  not  until  ten  o'clock  on  the  following  morn- 
ing did  I  take  up  my  vigilant  watch  at  the  end  of  the 
road,  at  a  spot  from  which  I  had  full  view  of  the  house 
in  question.  My  watch  proved  a  long  and  weary  one,  for 
not  until  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  was  my  patience 
rewarded. 

The  front  door  suddenly  opened,  and  down  the  steps 
came  the  slim  figure  of  a  girl,  followed  by  a  woman.  As 
they  approached  me  I  saw  that  it  was  the  girl  I  had  seen 
with  Moroni  in  Florence,  while  the  woman  was,  from 
her  dress,  evidently  an  old  servant. 


124        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

The  girl  of  mystery  was  attired  quite  smartly  in  black, 
her  appearance  being  very  different  from  the  shabby 
figure  she  presented  in  Florence.  But  her  beautiful  coun- 
tenance was  just  as  pathetic,  with  that  strange  set  ex- 
pression of  ineffable  sadness.  She  passed  me  by  with- 
out glancing  at  me,  while  the  stout,  homely  woman  at 
her  side  held  her  arm  linked  in  hers. 

They  turned  into  Earl's  Court  Road  and  walked 
towards  Kensington  High  Street,  while  I  followed  at  a 
respectable  distance.  I  could  not  fail  to  notice  the  grace 
of  carriage  of  the  girl  whose  listless  attitude  was  so 
mysterious,  and  whose  exact  whereabouts  Oswald  De 
Gex  was  concealing  from  his  friend,  Mrs.  Cullerton. 
But  the  one  point  which  puzzled  me  sorely  was  whether 
the  girl  walking  in  front  of  me  all  unconscious  of  my 
presence  was  the  same  that  I  had  seen  dead  at  Stretton 
Street,  and  for  whom  I  had  given  a  false  certificate  to 
cover  up  what  had  evidently  been  a  crime  with  malice 
aforethought. 

The  pair  now  and  then  became  lost  in  the  crowd  of 
foot-passengers  in  busy  Kensington,  but  I  followed  them. 
Occasionally  they  paused  to  look  into  Barker's  shop  win- 
dows, but  the  interest  was  evidently  on  the  part  of  the 
serving-woman,  for  Gabrielle  Tennison — or  whatever  her 
actual  name — seemed  to  evince  no  heed  of  things  about 
her.  She  walked  like  one  in  a  dream,  with  her  thoughts 
afar  off,  yet  her  face  was  the  sweetest,  most  beautiful, 
and  yet  the  saddest  I  had  ever  witnessed.  Tragedy  was 
written  upon  her  pale  countenance,  and  I  noticed  that 
one  or  two  men  and  women  in  passing  the  pair  turned  to 
look  back  at  them.  In  that  face  of  flawless  beauty  a 
strange  story  was  written — a  mystery  which  I  was  strenu- 
ously seeking  to  solve. 

Presently  they  entered  Kensington  Gardens,  strolling 


MONSIEUR  SUZOR  AGAIN  125 

along  the  gravelled  walks  beneath  the  bare,  leafless  trees 
that  were  so  black  with  London's  grime.  The  day  was 
cold,  but  bright,  hence  quite  a  number  of  persons  were 
walking  there,  together  with  the  usual  crowd  of  nurse- 
maids with  the  children  of  the  well-to-do  from  the  Hyde 
Park  and  Kensington  districts. 

The  pair  passed  leisurely  half-way  up  the  Broad  Walk, 
when  they  presently  rested  upon  a  seat  nearly  opposite 
the  great  faqade  of  Kensington  Palace. 

I  saw  that  I  had  not  been  noticed  either  by  the  old 
servant  or  by  her  mysterious  young  mistress,  therefore 
I  sank  quickly  upon  a  seat  some  distance  away,  but  in 
such  a  position  that  I  could  still  see  them  as  they  talked 
together. 

Was  Gabrielle  Engledue  living — or  was  she  dead  ?  Or 
was  Gabrielle  Tennison  and  Gabrielle  Engledue  one  and 
the  same  person?  A  living  face  is  different  from  that 
of  the  same  person  when  dead,  hence  the  great  problem 
presenting  itself. 

It  seemed  as  though  in  conversation  the  girl  became 
animated,  for  she  gesticulated  slightly  as  though  in  angry 
protest  at  some  remark  of  her  companion,  and  then  sud- 
denly I  had  a  great  surprise. 

Coming  down  the  Broad  Walk  I  saw  a  figure  in  a 
grey  overcoat  and  soft  brown  hat  which  I  instantly  recog- 
nized. He  walked  straight  to  where  the  pair  were  seated, 
lifted  his  hat,  and  then  seated  himself  beside  the  girl. 

The  man  was  my  French  friend,  Suzor ! 

That  they  had  gone  there  on  purpose  to  meet  him 
was  now  quite  clear,  for  after  a  few  moments  the  old 
woman  laughed,  rose  and  walked  on,  in  order  to  leave  the 
girl  alone  with  the  Frenchman.  What  could  be  the  mean- 
ing of  that  clandestine  meeting? — for  clandestine  it  was, 
or  Monsieur  Suzor  would  have  called  at  Longridge  Road. 


126        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

Possibly  they  expected  that  they  might  be  watched,  hence 
they  had  met  as  though  by  accident  at  that  spot  where 
they  believed  they  would  not  be  observed. 

Gaston  Suzor  was  a  shrewd,  clever  man.  But  what  did 
this  friendship  with  Gabrielle  Tennison  denote?  As  I 
watched  I  saw  him  speaking  very  earnestly.  For  some 
time  she  sat  with  her  gloved  hands  idly  in  her  lap  listen- 
ing to  his  words  without  comment.  Then  she  shook  her 
head,  and  put  up  her  hands  in  protest.  Afterwards  by 
her  attitude  she  seemed  to  be  appealing  to  him,  while  he 
remained  obdurate  and  unperturbed. 

I  longed  to  overhear  their  conversation,  but  in  the  fad- 
ing light  of  that  brief  wintry  afternoon  it  was  impossible 
to  approach  closer.  I  could  only  sit  and  watch.  My  eyes 
were  strained  to  see  every  gesture  of  the  pair,  now  that 
the  stout  figure  of  the  girl's  companion  had  disappeared 
towards  the  Bayswater  Road.  In  that  oasis  in  the  desert 
of  aristocratic  London  one  can  obtain  quite  sylvan  sur- 
roundings. True,  the  trees  and  vegetation  are  covered 
with  a  film  of  grime  from  the  millions  of  smoking  chim- 
neys of  the  giant  metropolis,  still  Kensington  Gardens 
ever  possesses  a  charm  all  its  own  as  a  cl'andestine  meet- 
ing-place for  well-born  lovers  and  ill-born  loafers,  for 
nursemaids  and  soldiers,  and  for  persons  of  both  sexes 
who  wish  for  a  little  quiet  talk  in  the  open  air  in  order 
so  often  to  clear  a  hectic  atmosphere. 

Such  I  judged  to  be  the  case  between  Gaston  Suzor 
and  Gabrielle  Tennison. 

At  first  the  girl  sat  inert  with  downcast  eyes  listening 
to  the  man.  But  suddenly  she  raised  her  hands  in  quick 
protest  again,  and  apparently  became  resentful — even 
angry.  Then  when  he  spoke  some  reassuring  words  she 
became  calmer. 

As  I  sat  there  shrewdly  watching,  I  could  not  help  re- 


MONSIEUR  SUZOR  AGAIN  127 

fleeting  upon  a  still  further  problem  which  now  pre- 
sented itself.  The  very  last  person  in  the  world  whom 
I  should  have  suspected  of  being  connected  with  the 
strange  affair  at  Stretton  Street  was  my  affable  friend 
the  French  banker.  I  now  began  to  wonder  if  my  first 
meeting  with  him  in  the  express  train  between  York  and 
King's  Cross  just  before  my  amazing  adventure  had  been 
simply  by  chance,  or  had  it  any  connection  between  that 
meeting  and  the  trap  which  had,  without  a  doubt,  been 
so  cunningly  prepared  for  me  as  I  passed  through  Stret- 
ton Street  to  my  uncle's  house  on  the  following  evening. 

The  fact  that  I  had  again  met  the  mysterious  Suzor  at 
the  Gare  du  Nord,  in  Paris,  just  as  I  was  on  my  way 
back  to  London  to  pursue  further  inquiries  was,  in  itself, 
suspicious.  I  confess  that  I  sat  utterly  bewildered.  One 
thing  was  plain,  namely,  that  he  had  no  suspicion  that  I 
was  keeping  such  close  observation  upon  Gabrielle.  I 
knew  where  she  lived,  and  to  me  he  had  given  his  hotel 
address. 

At  last,  after  quite  twenty  minutes  of  serious  conversa- 
tion, the  stout,  flat-footed  servant  returned,  and  after  a 
few  pleasant  words  with  her,  Suzor  rose,  and  raising  his 
hat,  left  them. 

Instantly  it  occurred  to  me  that,  as  I  knew  the  girl's 
abode,  it  would  be  more  useful  perhaps  to  watch  the 
movements  of  my  friend  the  French  banker. 

He  took  the  path  which  skirted  the  lake,  and  then 
cut  down  the  straight  way  which  leads  to  Alexandra  Gate 
into  Rotten  Row,  while  I  followed  him  far  behind  though 
I  kept  him  well  in  sight.  He  went  swiftly  at  a  swinging 
pace,  for  he  had  apparently  grown  cold  while  seated  there 
in  the  north  wind.  The  ground  was  hard  and  frosty, 
and  the  sky  grey  and  lowering,  with  every  evidence  that 
a  snowstorm  might  be  expected. 


128         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

He  walked  the  whole  length  of  Rotten  Row,  that  leafy 
way  which  is  so  animated  when  social  London  disports 
itself  in  the  season,  and  which  on  a  black  wintry  afternoon, 
when  the  smart  set  are  on  the  Riviera  or  in  Egypt,  is  so 
dull  and  deserted.  At  Hyde  Park  Corner  he  turned  along 
Piccadilly,  until  he  hailed  a  passing  taxi,  to  the  driver  of 
which  he  gave  deliberate  instructions. 

I  glanced  around,  and  very  fortunately  saw  another  dis- 
engaged taxi,  which  I  entered,  giving  the  man  instruc- 
tions to  keep  the  other  in  view,  with  a  promise  of  double 
fare.  Instantly  the  man  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the 
enterprise,  and  away  we  went  towards  the  Circus,  and 
thence  by  way  of  Oxford  Street  to  the  Euston  Road, 
where  before  a  small  private  hotel  quite  close  to  the 
station  Snzor  descended,  and,  paying  the  man,  entered. 

For  three  hours  I  waited  outside,  but  he  did  not  emerge. 
Then  I  went  to  the  Carlton,  and  from  the  reception-clerk 
ascertained  that  Monsieur  Suzor  was  staying  there,  but 
he  did  not  always  sleep  there.  Sometimes  he  would  be 
absent  for  two  or  three  nights.  He  went  away  into  the 
country,  the  smart  young  clerk  believed. 

Hence  I  established  the  curious  fact  that  Gaston  Suzor 
when  in  London  had  two  places  of  abode,  one  in  that  best- 
known  hotel,  and  the  other  in  the  obscurity  of  a  frowsy 
house  patronized  by  lower-class  visitors  to  London. 

What  could  be  the  motive,  I  wondered  ? 

I  returned  to  the  Carlton  at  midnight  and  inquired  for 
Monsieur  Suzor.  The  night-clerk  told  me  that  he  had 
not  yet  returned. 

So  I  went  back  to  the  cold  cheerlessness  of  Rivermead 
Mansions,  and  slept  until  the  following  morning. 

At  each  turn  I  seemed  to  be  confronted  by  mystery 
which  piled  upon  mystery.  Ever  before  my  eyes  I  saw 
that  handsome  girl  lying  cold  and  lifeless,  and  I  had 


MONSIEUR  SUZOR  AGAIN  129 

forged  a  certificate  in  the  name  of  a  well-known  medical 
man,  upon  which  her  body  had  been  reduced  to  ashes! 
That  I  had  acted  as  accomplice  to  some  cunning  and 
deliberate  crime  I  could  not  disguise  from  myself.  It 
was  now  up  to  me  to  make  amends  before  God  and 
man,  to  strive  to  solve  the  enigma  and  to  bring  the  guilty 
persons  to  justice. 

This  was  what  I  was  endeavouring,  with  all  my  soul, 
to  accomplish. 

Yet  the  point  was  whether  Gabrielle  Engledue  was 
really  dead,  or  whether  she  still  existed  in  the  person 
of  Gabrielle  Tennison.  That  was  the  first  fact  for  me 
to  establish. 

Next  morning  I  rose  early  and  gazed  across  the  cold 
misty  Thames  to  the  great  factories  and  wharves  upon 
the  opposite  bank.  The  outlook  was  indeed  dull  and 
dispiriting,  I  stood  recalling  how  Moroni  had  walked  with 
the  beautiful  girl  in  the  streets  of  Florence,  unwillingly 
it  seemed,  for  he  certainly  feared  lest  his  companion 
be  recognized.  I  also  recollected  the  strange  conversa- 
tion I  had  heard  with  my  own  ears,  and  the  curious  atti- 
tude which  little  Mrs.  Cullerton  had  adopted  towards  me, 
even  though  she  had  revealed  to  me  the  whereabouts  of 
Gabrielle  Tennison. 

My  breakfast  was  ready  soon  after  eight  o'clock,  and 
afterwards  I  went  to  Earl's  Court  to  watch  the  house  in 
Longridge  Road.  By  dint  of  careful  inquiries  in  the 
neighbourhood  I  was  told  that  Mrs.  Tennison  had  gone 
away  a  few  days  before — to  Paris,  they  believed. 

"  The  young  lady,  Miss  Tennison,  appears  to  be  rather 
peculiar,"  I  remarked  casually  to  a  woman  at  a  baker's 
shop  near  by,  after  she  had  told  me  that  she  served 
them  with  bread. 

"  Yes,  poor  young  lady !  "  replied  the  woman.    "  She's 


130         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

never  been  the  same  since  she  was  taken  ill  last  Novem- 
ber. They  say  she  sustained  some  great  shock  which  so 
upset  her  that  her  mind  is  now  a  little  affected.  Old 
Mrs.  Alford,  the  servant  there,  tells  me  that  the  poor  girl 
will  go  a  whole  day  and  never  open  her  mouth.  She's 
like  one  dumb !  " 

"  How  very  curious !  "  I  remarked.  "  I  wonder  what 
kind  of  shock  it  was  that  caused  such  a  change  in  her? 
Was  she  quite  all  right  before  November?" 

"  Perfectly.  She  was  a  bright  clever  girl,  and  used 
often  to  come  in  here  to  me  for  chocolate  and  cakes.  She 
was  full  of  life  and  merriment.  It  is  really  pathetic  to 
see  her  as  she  is  nowadays.  She  seems  to  be  brooding 
over  something,  but  what  it  is  nobody  can  make  out." 

"  Very  remarkable,"  I  said.  "  I've  noticed  her  about, 
and  have  wondered  at  her  attitude — like  many  others, 
I  suppose." 

"  Yes.  Her  mother  has  taken  her  to  a  number  of  men- 
tal specialists,  I  hear,  but  nobody  seems  to  be  able  to  do 
her  any  good.  They  say  she's  suffered  from  some  shock, 
but  they  can't  tell  exactly  what  it  ,is,  because  the  young 
lady  seems  to  have  entirely  lost  her  memory  over  a  cer- 
tain period." 

"  Is  Mrs.  Tennison  well  off  ?"  I  asked. 

"  No — the  reverse,  I  should  think,"  the  baker's  wife 
replied.  "  I've  heard  that  Mr.  Tennison  was  a  very  rich 
man,  but  when  he  died  it  was  found  that  he  was  on  the 
verge  of  bankruptcy,  and  the  widow  was  left  very  poorly 
off." 

It  is  curious  what  intimate  knowledge  the  little  trades- 
people glean  about  their  neighbours,  even  in  London. 
From  the  woman  I  gathered  one  or  two  facts  of  interest. 

I  inquired  if  Mrs.  Tennison  had  many  visitors,  where- 
upon she  replied  in  the  negative,  and  added : 


MONSIEUR  SUZOR  AGAIN  131 

"  There  used  to  be  an  Italian  gentleman  who  called 
very  often  a  few  weeks  ago.  He  often  walked  out  with 
the  young  lady.  Somebody  said  he  was  a  doctor,  but  I 
don't  know  if  he  was." 

I  asked  the  woman  to  tell  me  what  he  was  like,  when 
she  gave  me  an  accurate  description  of  the  mysterious 
doctor  of  the  Via  Cavezzo ! 

So  Moroni  had  visited  her  there — in  Longridge  Road ! 

I  tried  to  ascertain  if  Gaston  Suzor  had  been  there  also, 
but  my  informant  had  no  knowledge  of  him.  She  had 
never  seen  him  walking  with  Gabrielle  Tennison,  as  she 
had  so  often  seen  the  Italian. 

I  remained  for  nearly  half  an  hour  chatting,  retiring, 
of  course,  when  she  was  compelled  to  serve  customers, 
and  then  I  left  her  and  walked  round  to  the  house  in 
Longridge  Road,  where  I  watched  a  little  while,  and  then 
returned  to  the  Carlton. 


CHAPTER  THE  ELEVENTH 

THE   ABSOLUTE   FACTS 

"  MONSIEUR  SUZOR  has  not  yet  returned,"  was  the  reply 
of  the  smart  reception-clerk  when  I  inquired  for  the 
French  banker.  "  But  he  is  often  away  for  two  or  three 
days." 

I  left  the  hotel,  and  taking  a  taxi  to  the  Euston  Road 
made  a  thorough  examination  of  the  high  shabby  house 
with  its  smoke-grimed  lace  curtains,  a  place  which  bore 
over  the  fan-light  the  words  "  Private  Hotel."  In  the 
broad  light  of  day  it  looked  a  most  dull',  uninviting  place ; 
more  so  even  than  its  neighbours.  There  are  many  such 
hotels  in  the  vicinity  of  Euston  Station,  and  this  seemed 
the  most  wretched  of  them  all,  for  the  windows  had  not 
been  cleaned  for  many  months,  while  the  steps  badly 
wanted  scrubbing. 

After  I  had  thoroughly  examined  the  place  in  front,  I 
went  round  to  the  back,  where  I  discovered,  to  my  sur- 
prise, that  the  house  had  an  exit  at  the  rear  through  a 
mews  into  a  drab,  dull  street  which  ran  parallel.  Then, 
for  the  first  time,  the  thought  occurred  to  me  that  on  the 
previous  day  the  Frenchman  might  have  entered  by  the 
front  door  and  passed  out  by  the  back  into  the  next 
street ! 

I  waited  an  hour  idling  about,  and  then  I  went  boldly 
to  the  door,  and  knocked. 

A  black-haired,  slatternly  woman  in  a  torn  and  soiled 
apron  opened  the  door  slightly. 

132 


THE  ABSOLUTE  FACTS  133 

"We're  full  up,"  she  snapped  before  I  could  speak. 
"We  haven't  any  room  to  let." 

"  I  don't  require  a  room,"  I  replied  politely.  "  I've 
called  to  see  the  French  gentleman  you  have  staying  here 
— Monsieur  Suzor." 

I  thought  she  started  at  mention  of  the  name,  for  she 
still  held  the  door  ajar  as  though  to  prevent  me  from  peer- 
ing inside. 

"  We've  got  no  French  gent  a-staying  'ere,"  she  re- 
plied. "  You've  made  a  mistake." 

"  But  I  saw  him  enter  here  last  night." 

"  You  must  'ave  been  mistaken,"  the  woman  said. 
"  'E  might  'ave  gone  next  door.  They  'ave  a  lot  cf 
visitors." 

"  But  you  are  full  up — eh  ?  " 

"  Yes — with  our  reg'lar  residents,"  she  answered 
promptly.  But  from  her  nervousness  of  manner  I  knew 
she  was  not  telling  the  truth.  I  was  positive  that  Suzor 
had  entered  there,  but  she  denied  all  knowledge  of 
him.  Why  ? 

Without  a  doubt,  while  I  had  waited  for  him  to  emerge, 
he  had  passed  out  by  the  back  way.  If  so,  was  it  possible 
that  he  had  seen  and  recognized  me,  and  wished  to  escape 
unseen  ? 

The  house  was  certainly  one  of  mystery.  The  woman 
was  palpably  perturbed  by  my  inquiry,  and  she  seemed 
relieved  when  I  turned  away  with  feigned  disappoint- 
ment. 

"  Try  next  door,"  she  suggested,  and  disappeared. 

As  I  walked  along  Euston  Road  in  the  direction  of  Tot- 
tenham Court  Road,  I  fell  to  wondering  whether  that 
frowsy  house  was  one  of  those  which  exist  in  various 
quarters  of  London  where  thieves  and  persons  hiding 
from  the  police  can  find  sanctuary,  and  whether  Suzor, 


134        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

knowing  that  I  had  seen  him,  had  escaped  me  by  passing 
through  to  the  back  and  thus  getting  away ! 

I  longed  to  know  the  character  of  the  serious  conver- 
sation he  had  had  with  Gabrielle  Tennison.  That  indeed 
was  my  object  to  discover,  hence  that  afternoon  I  still 
pursued  my  bold  tactics  and  at  about  three  o'clock  I  rang 
the  bell  in  Longridge  Road. 

That  act,  the  true  consequences  of  which  I  never 
dreamed,  eventually  brought  upon  me  a  strange  and  sen- 
sational series  of  complications  and  adventures  so  re- 
markable that  I  sometimes  think  that  it  is  only  by  a  mir- 
acle I  am  alive  to  set  down  the  facts  in  black  and  white. 

The  old  woman-servant,  Mrs.  Alford,  opened  the  door, 
whereupon  I  said: 

"  I  trust  you  will  excuse  me,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact 
I  am  desirous  of  a  few  minutes'  private  conversation  with 
you." 

She  looked  askance  at  me,  and  naturally.  I  was  a  per- 
fect stranger,  and  servants  do  not  care  to  admit  strangers 
to  the  house  when  their  mistress  is  absent. 

"  I  know  that  this  is  Mrs.  Tennison's  house,"  I  went 
on,  "  and  also  that  you  are  left  in  charge  of  Miss  Gabrielle. 
It  is  about  her  that  I  wish  to  consult  you.  I  think  I 
may  be  able  to  tell  you  something  of  interest,"  and  I 
handed  her  my  card. 

Mrs.  Alford  read  the  name,  but  at  first  she  seemed 
rather  disinclined  to  admit  me.  Indeed,  not  until  I  had 
further  whetted  her  curiosity  by  again  telling  her  that  I 
could  give  her  some  interesting  information,  did  she  show 
me  upstairs  to  the  cosy  maisonnette  on  the  first  floor.  It 
was  a  large  house  which  had  been  divided  into  two  resi- 
dences, one  the  basement  and  ground  floor,  and  the  other 
the  first  and  second  floors.  It  was  in  the  latter  that  Mrs. 
Tennison  lived. 


THE  ABSOLUTE  FACTS  135 

She  ushered  me  into  a  pretty  drawing-room,  small,  but 
very  tastefully  furnished.  In  the  adjoining  room  some- 
one was  playing  a  piano ;  no  doubt  it  was  Gabrielle. 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Alford,"  I  began.  "  I  have  ventured  to 
call  here  because  I  have  learned  of  Miss  Gabrielle's  un- 
fortunate mental  condition,  and  perhaps  I  may  have  a  key 
to  it." 

"  What — do  you  know  something,  sir  ?  "  asked  the  stout 
buxom  woman,  for  the  first  time  impressed  by  my  serious- 
ness. "  Do  you  know  anything  of  what  happened  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,"  was  my  con-committal  reply.  "  But  first, 
I  wish  you  to  respect  my  confidence.  I  know  you'll  do 
that  in  the  interests  of  the  poor  young  lady." 

"  I'll  do  anything  in  her  interests,  sir,"  she  replied,  and 
invited  me  to  take  a  seat,  she  herself  remained  standing, 
as  a  servant  should. 

"  Well,  then,  say  nothing  to  your  mistress,  or  to  any- 
one el'se  regarding  my  visit.  First,  I  want  you  to  answer 
one  or  two  questions  so  as  to  either  confirm  or  negative 
certain  suspicions  which  I  hold." 

"  Suspicions  of  what?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  will  reveal  those  in  due  course,"  I  replied.  "  Now, 
tell  me  what  happened  to  Miss  Gabrielle  that  she  should 
be  in  her  present  mental  state  ?  " 

"  Nobody  can  tell,  sir.  She  went  out  one  evening  in 
November  to  go  to  her  dancing  lesson,  and  was  not  seen 
again  until  six  days  later,  when  she  was  found  on  the 
Portsmouth  Road  half-way  between  Liphook  and  Peters- 
field.  She  had  evidently  walked  a  considerable  distance 
and  was  on  her  way  towards  London,  when  she  collapsed 
at  the  roadside.  A  carter  discovered  her,  gave  warning 
to  the  police  at  Petersfield,  and  she  was  taken  to  the 
hospital,  where  it  was  found  that  her  memory  had  entirely 


136        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

gone.  She  could  not  recognize  her  mother  or  anyone 
else." 

"  On  what  date  did  she  disappear  ?  "  I  asked  breath- 
lessly. 

"  On  November  the  seventh." 

I  held  my  breath.  It  was  on  the  day  of  my  startling 
adventure. 

"  Would  you  describe  to  me  the  exact  circumstances  ?  " 
I  asked  eagerly.  "  I  may  be  able  to  throw  a  very  inter- 
esting light  upon  the  affair." 

The  woman  hesitated.     Perhaps  it  was  but  natural. 

"  Well,"  she  said  at  last.  "  My  mistress  is  away.  I 
think  you  ought  to  see  her,  sir." 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Alf  ord  ?  You  are  the  trusted  servant  of 
the  family,  and  surely  you  know  the  whole  facts  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  she  answered  in  a  low,  tense  voice.  "  They  are 
most  remarkable." 

"  Then  tell  me  all  you  know,  and  in  return  I  will  try 
to  explain  some  matters  which  are  no  doubt  to  you  and 
to  Mrs.  Tennison  a  mystery." 

"  Well,  after  tea  on  the  day  in  question,  the  seventh 
of  November,  Miss  Gabrielle  went  out  to  go  to  Addison 
Road  to  Mrs.  Gill's  dancing  class.  She  was  in  the  best 
of  health  and  in  high  spirits  because  she  had  that  morn- 
ing received  an  invitation  to  go  and  stay  with  her  cousin 
Leonora  at  Newmarket  on  the  following  Wednesday.  As 
far  as  we  know  she  had  not  a  single  trouble  in  the  world." 

"  She  had  no  admirers — eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,  several.  But  she  had  no  serious  flirtations,  as 
far  as  we  can  make  out,"  replied  Mrs.  Alf  ord.  "Her 
mother  had  gone  to  pay  a  visit,  and  when  Miss  Gabrielle 
went  out  she  told  me  that  she  would  be  home  at  nine 
o'clock.  Though  we  waited  till  midnight  she  did  not  re- 
turn. \Ve  remained  up  all  night,  and  next  morning  when 


THE  ABSOLUTE  FACTS  137 

I  went  to  Mrs.  Gill,  in  Addison  Road,  I  found  that  she 
had  left  there  at  half-past  six  to  return  home.  We  then 
went  to  Kensington  Police  Station,  and  gave  her  descrip- 
tion to  the  police." 

"What  was  their  theory?"  I  asked. 

"  They  thought  she  had  left  home  of  her  own  accord — 
that  she  had  a  lover  in  secret.  At  least,  the  inspector 
hinted  at  that  suggestion." 

"  Of  course  her  mother  was  frantic,"  I  remarked. 
"  But  had  you  no  suspicion  of  any  person  posing  as  her 
friend?" 

"  None.  It  was  not  till  six  days  later — about  one  o'clock 
in  the  day,  when  a  constable  called  and  told  Mrs.  Tenni- 
son  that  a  young  lady  answering  the  description  of  her 
daughter  had  been  found  at  the  roadside,  and  had  been 
taken  to  the  cottage  hospital  at  Petersfield.  We  both  took 
the  next  train  from  Waterloo,  and  on  arrival  at  the 
hospital  found  the  poor  girl  lying  in  bed.  But  so  strange 
was  her  manner  that  she  was  unable  to  recognize  either 
of  us.  All  she  could  say  were  the  words  '  Red,  green  and 
gold ! '  and  she  shuddered  in  horror  as  though  the  colours 
terrified  her.  These  words  she  constantly  repeated — '  red, 
green  and  gold  ! ' — '  red,  green  and  gold ! ' ' 

"  What  was  the  doctor's  opinion  ?  " 

"  He  was  as  much  puzzled  as  we  were,  sir.  Apparently 
my  poor  young  mistress  was  found  early  in  the  morning 
lying  in  the  hedge  on  the  main  Portsmouth  Road.  Her 
clothes  were  wet,  for  it  had  rained  during  the  night. 
Her  boots  were  very  muddy,  and  her  clothes  in  an  awful 
state.  She  seemed  as  if  she  had  wandered  about  for 
hours.  But  all  she  could  say  to  us  were  the  words :  '  Red, 
green  and  gold.' " 

"  Did  not  she  recognize  her  mother?"  I  inquired. 

"  No,  sir.    She  hasn't  recognized  her — even  now !  " 


138        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  Doctors  have  seen  her,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  half  a  dozen  of  them — including  Doctor 
Moroni,  the  great  Italian  doctor.  He  took  her  to  Flor- 
ence for  treatment,  but  it  did  her  no  good — none  in  the 
least." 

"  How  did  you  know  Moroni  ?  "  I  asked  quickly. 

"  I  think  he  became  interested  in  her  through  one  of 
the  doctors  to  whom  Mrs.  Tennison  took  her." 

"  Mrs.  Tennison  did  not  know  Moroni  before  this 
affair  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  No,  sir.  Not  to  my  knowledge.  He's  a  very  nice 
gentleman,  and  has  been  awfully  kind  to  Miss  Gabrielle," 
replied  Mrs.  Al'ford.  "  Like  all  the  other  doctors  he 
thinks  that  she  has  sustained  some  very  severe  shock — but 
of  what  nature  nobody  can  tell." 

"  What  other  doctor  has  seen  her  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh ! — well,  Sir  Charles  Wendover,  in  Cavendish 
Square,  has  taken  a  great  interest  in  her.  He  has  seen 
her  several  times,  but  seems  unable  to  restore  her  to  her 
normal  state  of  mind." 

Sir  Charles  was  one  of  our  greatest  mental  special- 
ists, I  knew,  and  if  he  had  been  unable  to  do  anything, 
then  her  case  must  be  hopeless. 

"  But  Doctor  Moroni  took  her  away  to  Italy,"  I  said. 
"  For  what  reason  ?  " 

"  He  took  her  to  Professor  Casuto,  of  Florence — I 
think  that's  the  name — but  he  could  do  nothing,  so  she 
was  brought  back  again." 

"  Now  tell  me  frankly,  Mrs.  Alford,"  I  said,  looking 
the  stout,  well-preserved  woman  full  in  the  face.  "  Have 
you  ever  heard  the  name  of  De  Gex — a  rich  gentleman 
who  lives  in  Stretton  Street,  just  off  Park  Lane?  " 

"  De  Gex !  "  she  repeated,  her  countenance  assuming  a 


THE  ABSOLUTE  FACTS  139 

blank  expression.  "  Yes,  I've  heard  of  him.  I've  read 
of  him  in  the  papers.  He's  a  millionaire,  they  say." 

"  You  have  never  heard  of  him  in  connexion  with  Miss 
Tennison  ?  Is  she  acquainted  with  him  ?  " 

"  Not  to  my  knowledge.    Why  do  you  ask?" 

"  I  have  a  distinct  reason  for  asking,"  was  my  reply. 
"  Remember  that  I  am  seeking  to  solve  the  enigma  of 
your  young  mistress's  present  extraordinary  state  of 
mind.  Any  information  you  can  give  me  will  assist  me 
towards  that  end." 

As  I  spoke  I  heard  a  sweet  contralto  voice  in  the  ad- 
joining room  break  out  into  a  song  from  one  of  the 
popular  revues.  It  was  Gabrielle's  voice,  I  knew. 

"  All  the  information  I  possess,  sir,  is  at  your  disposal," 
the  woman  assured  me.  "  I  only  wish  Mrt>.  Tennison  was 
here  to  answer  your  questions." 

"  But  you  know  as  much  as  she  does,"  I  said.  •"  Now 
tell  me — what  is  your  theory?  What  happened  to  your 
young  mistress  during  the  time  she  disappeared?" 

Mrs.  Alford  lifted  her  hands  in  dismay. 

"  What  can  we  think  ?  She  went  away  quite  bright 
and  happy.  When  she  was  found  wandering  on  the  road 
between  London  and  Portsmouth  her  memory  was  a 
blank.  She  was  haggard,  worn,  and  much  aged — aged 
in  those  few  days  of  her  absence.  She  could  remember 
nothing,  and  all  she  could  repeat  were  those  strange  words 
*  Red,  green  and  gold.'  " 

"  I  wonder  why  those  colours  were  so  impressed  upon 
her  memory  ?  "  I  remarked. 

"  Ah !  That  is  what  puzzles  the  doctors  so.  Each 
evening,  just  as  it  grows  dark,  she  sits  down  and  is  silent 
for  half  an  hour,  with  eyes  downcast  as  though  thinking 
deeply.  Then  she  will  suddenly  start  up  and  cry,  '  Ah !  I 
see — I  see — yes — that  terrible  red,  green  and  gold  !  Oh ! 


140        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

it's  horrible — bewildering — fascinating — red,  green  and 
gold ! '  The  three  colours  seem  to  obsess  her  always  at 
nightfall.  That  is  what  Doctor  Moroni  told  me." 

I  paused  for  a  few  moments. 

"You've  never  heard  her  speak  of  Mr.  De  Gex? 
You're  quite  sure?" 

"  Quite,"  was  Mrs.  Alford's  reply.  "  My  young  mis- 
tress was  studying  singing  at  the  Royal  Academy  of 
Music.  Hark!  You  hear  her  now!  Has  she  not  a 
beautiful  voice  ?  Ah,  sir — it  is  all  a  great  tragedy !  It 
has  broken  her  mother's  heart.  Only  to  think  that  to- 
day the  poor  girl  is  without  memory,  and  her  brain  is 
entirely  unbalanced.  '  Red,  green  and  gold '  is  all  that 
seems  to  matter  to  her.  And  whenever  she  recollects  it 
and  the  words  escape  her  drawn  lips  she  seems  petrified 
by  horror." 

What  the  woman  told  me  was,  I  realized,  the  actual 
truth.  And  yet  when  I  recollected  that  I  had  seen  the 
dark-eyed  victim  lying  dead  in  that  spacious  room  in  the 
house  of  Mr.  De  Gex  in  Stretton  Street,  I  became  utterly 
bewildered.  I  had  seen  her  dead  there.  I  had  held  a 
mirror  to  her  half-open  lips  and  ,it  had  not  become 
clouded.  Yet  in  my  ears  there  now  sounded  the  sweet 
tuneful  strains  of  that  bird-song  from  "  Joy  Bells." 

Truly,  the  unfortunate  girl  possessed  a  glorious  voice, 
which  would  make  a  fortune  upon  the  concert  platform 
or  the  stage. 

I  did  my  level  best  to  obtain  more  information  con- 
cerning the  Italian  doctor  and  the  man  De  Gex,  but  the 
woman  could  tell  me  absolutely  nothing.  She  was  con- 
cealing nothing  from  me — that  I  knew. 

It  was  only  when  I  mentioned  the  French  banker,  Mon- 
sieur Suzor,  that  she  started  and  became  visibly  per- 
turbed. 


THE  ABSOLUTE  FACTS  141 

"  I  have  no  knowledge  of  the  gentleman/'  she  declared. 

Yet  had  I  not  seen  them  together  in  Kensington  Gardens  ? 

"  I  don't  know  whether  he  is  known  to  you  as  Suzor," 

I  said.     Then  I  described  him  as  accurately  as  I  could. 

But  the  woman  shook  her  head.     For  the  first  time 

she  now  lied  to  me.    With  my  own  eyes  I  had  seen  the 

man  approach  her  and  the  girl,  and  after  they  had  greeted 

each  other,  she  had  risen  and  left  the  girl  alone  with 

him. 

Curiously  enough  when  the  pair  were  alone  together 
they  seemed  to  understand  each  other.  I  recollected  it 
all  most  vividly. 

To  say  the  least  it  was  strange  why,  being  so  frank 
upon  other  details,  she  so  strenuously  denied  all  knowl- 
edge of  the  affable  Frenchman  who  had  been  my  fellow- 
traveller  from  York  almost  immediately  preceding  my 
strange  adventures  in  the  heart  of  London. 

My  conversation  with  her  had  been,  to  say  the  least, 
highly  illuminating,  and  I  had  learnt  several  facts  of 
which  I  had  been  in  ignorance.  But  this  fixed  assertion 
that  she  knew  nothing  of  the  elusive  Frenchman  aroused 
my  suspicions. 

What  was  she  hiding  from  me? 

I  felt  that  she  was  concealing  some  very  essential  point 
— one  that  might  well  prove  the  clue  to  the  whole  puzzling 
enigma. 

And  while  we  spoke  the  girl's  clear  contralto  rang  out, 
while  she  herself  played  the  accompaniment. 

At  length  I  saw  that  I  could  obtain  no  further  infor- 
mation from  the  servant,  therefore  I  begged  to  be  intro- 
duced to  her  young  mistress,  assuring  her  of  my  keen 
interest  in  the  most  puzzling  problem. 

Apparently  relieved  that  I  pressed  her  no  further  re- 
garding the  handsome  but  insidious  Frenchman,  the 


142        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

woman  at  once  ushered  me  into  the  adjoining  room — a 
small  but  well-furnished  one — where  at  the  grand  piano 
sat  the  girl  whose  eyes  were  fixed,  though  not  sightless 
as  I  had  believed  when  in  Florence. 

She  turned  them  suddenly  upon  my  companion,  and 
stopped  playing. 

"  Ah !  dear  Alf  ord !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  I  wondered  if 
you  were  at  home."  Then  she  paused.  She  apparently 
had  no  knowledge  of  my  presence,  for  she  had  not  turned 
to  me,  though  I  stood  straight  in  her  line  of  gaze.  "  I 
thought  you  had  gone  out  to  see  Monsieur — to  tell  him 
my  message."  She  again  paused,  and  drew  her  breath. 

I  stood  gazing  upon  her  beautiful  face,  dark,  tragic 
and  full  of  mystery.  She  sat  at  the  piano,  her  white 
fingers  inert  upon  the  keys. 

She  wore  a  simple  navy  blue  frock,  cut  low  in  the  neck 
with  a  touch  of  cream  upon  it,  and  edged  with  scarlet 
piping — a  dress  which  at  that  moment  was  the  mode. 

Yet  her  pale,  blank  countenance  was  indeed  pathetic, 
a  face  upon  which  tragedy  was  written.  I  stood  for  a 
moment  gazing  upon  her,  perplexed,  bewildered  and 
breathless  in  mystery. 

I  spoke.    She  rose  from  her  seat,  and  turned  to  me. 

Her  reply,  low  and  tense,  staggered  me! 


CHAPTER  THE  TWELFTH 

"  RED,  GREEN  AND  GOLD  !  " 

"  I  KNOW  you !  "  she  cried,  staring  at  me  as  though  trans- 
formed by  terror.  "  They  told  me  you  would  come  !  You 
are  my  enemy — you  are  here  to  kill  me !  " 

"  To  kill  you,  Miss  Tennison !  "  I  gasped.  "  No,  I 
am  certainly  not  your  enemy.  I  am  your  friend ! " 

She  looked  very  hard  at  me,  and  I  noticed  that  her 
lips  twitched  slightly. 

"  You — you  are  Mr.  Garfield — Hugh  Garfield  ?  "  she 
asked,  her  hands  quivering  nervously. 

"  Yes.  That  is  my  name,"  I  replied.  "  How  do  you 
know  it?" 

"  They — they  told  me.  They  told  me  in  Florence.  The 
doctor  pointed  you  out.  He  told  me  that  you  were  my 
worst  enemy — that  you  intend  to  kill  me !  " 

"  Doctor  Moroni  told  you  that  ?  "  I  inquired  kindly. 

"  Yes.  One  day  you  were  in  the  Via  Tornabuoni  and 
he  made  me  take  note  of  you.  It  was  then  that  he  told 
me  you  were  a  man  of  evil  intentions,  and  warned  me  to 
be  wary  of  you." 

I  paused.  Here  was  yet  another  sinister  action  on  the 
part  of  Moroni !  Besides,  I  was  unaware  that  he  had 
realized  I  had  watched  him! 

"  Ah !  yes,  I  see,"  I  replied,  in  an  attempt  to  humour 
her,  for  she  was  very  sweet  and  full  of  grace  and  beauty. 
;'  The  doctor  tried  to  set  you  against  me.  And  yet, 
strangely  enough,  I  am  your  friend.  Why  should  he  seek 
to  do  this?" 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?  "  replied  the  girl  in  a  strange  blank 

143 


144         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

voice.  "  But  he  evidently  hates  you.  He  told  me  that 
you  were  also  his  enemy,  as  well  as  mine.  He  said  that 
it  was  his  intention  to  take  steps  to  prevent  you  from 
seeking  mischief  against  both  of  us." 

This  struck  me  as  distinctly  curious.  Though  the  poor 
girl's  mind  was  unbalanced  it  was  evident  that  she  could 
recollect  some  things,  while  her  memory  did  not  serve 
her  in  others.  Of  course  it  was  quite  feasible  that 
Moroni,  on  discovering  that  I  was  on  the  alert,  would 
warn  her  against  me. 

Suddenly,  hoping  to  further  stir  the  chords  of  her 
memory,  I  asked: 

"  Have  you  seen  Mr.  De  Gex  lately  ?  " 

"  Who  ?  "  she  inquired  blankly. 

"  Mr.  Oswald  De  Gex — who  lives  in  Stretton  Street." 

She  shook  her  head  blankly. 

"  I'm  afraid  I — I  don't  know  him,"  she  replied.  "  Who 
is  he?" 

"  Surely  you  know  Stretton  Street  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No — where  is  it  ?  "  she  inquired  in  that  strange  inert 
manner  which  characterized  her  mentality. 

I  did  not  pursue  the  question  further,  for  it  was 
evident  that  she  now  had  no  knowledge  of  the  man  in 
whose  house,  I  had  seen  her  lying — apparently  dead.  And 
if  she  were  not  dead  whose  body  was  it  that  had  been 
cremated  ?  That  was '  one  of  the  main  points  of  the 
problem  which,  try  how  I  would,  I  failed  to  grasp. 

Would  the  enigma  ever  be  solved? 

As  she  stood  in  her  mother's  cosy  little  drawing-room 
Gabrielle  Tennison  presented  a  strangely  tragic  figure. 
In  the  grey  London  light  she  was  very  beautiful  it  was 
true,  but  upon  her  pale  countenance  was  that  terribly 
vacant  look  which  was  the  index  of  her  Overwrought 
brain.  Her  memory  had  been  swept  away  by  some  un- 


"  RED,  GREEN  AND  GOLD !  "  145 

known  horror — so  the  doctors  had  declared.  And  yet 
she  seemed  to  remember  distinctly  what  Doctor  Moroni 
had  alleged  against  me  in  Florence ! 

Therefore  I  questioned  her  further  concerning  the 
Italian,  and  found  that  she  recollected  quite  a  lot  about 
him. 

"  He  has  been  very  kind  to  you — has  he  not?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes.  He  is  an  exceedingly  kind  friend.  He  took 
me  to  see  several  doctors  in  Florence  and  Rome.  All 
of  them  said  I  had  lost  my  memory,"  and  she  smiled 
sweetly. 

"  And  haven't  you  lost  your  memory  ?  " 

"  A  little — perhaps — but  not  much." 

Here  Mrs.  Alford  interrupted. 

"  But  you  don't  recollect  what  happened  to  you  when 
you  were  away,  until  you  were  found  wandering  near 
Petersfield.  Tell  us,  dear." 

"  No — no,  not  exactly,"  the  girl  answered.  "  All  I 
recollect  is  that  it  was  all  red,  green  and  gold — oh !  such 
bright  dazzling  colours — red,  green  and  gold!  At  first 
they  were  glorious — until — until  sight  of  them  blinded 
me — they  seemed  to  burn  into  my  brain — eh  !  "  And  she 
drew  back  and  placed  her  right  arm  across  her  eyes  as 
though  to  shut  out  from  her  gaze  something  that  appalled 
her.  "  There  they  are ! "  she  shrieked.  "  I  see  them 
again — always  the  same,  day  and  night — red,  green  and 
gold ! — red,  green  and  gold  !  " 

I  exchanged  glances  with  the  woman  Alford.  It  was 
apparent  that  the  shock  the  girl  had  sustained  had  been 
somehow  connected  with  the  colours  red,  green  and  gold. 

I  tried  to  obtain  from  her  some  faint  idea  of  the  nature 
of  what  she  had  witnessed,  but  she  was  quite  unable  to 
explain.  That  she  had  fallen  victim  to  some  deep-laid 
plot  was  evident. 


146        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

She  remembered  much  of  her  visit  to  Florence,  I 
found,  for  when  I  recalled  the  great  Duomo,  where  I  had 
first  seen  her  with  Moroni,  she  became  quite  talkative  and 
told  me  how  much  she  admired  the  magnificent  monu- 
ments— the  Battistero,  the  Bigallo,  Giotto's  campanile 
and  the  magnificent  pictures  in  the  Pitti  and  Uffizi. 

Moroni  had  apparently  also  taken  her  to  Rome,  pre- 
sumably to  consult  another  Italian  professor,  for  she 
spoke  vaguely  of  the  Corso  and  St.  Peter's  and  described 
the  Forum  in  such  a  manner  that  she  must  have  visited 
it. 

While  I  sat  chatting  with  her  it  struck  me  that  in  the 
blank  state  of  her  mind  certain  things  stood  out  very 
prominently — a  mental  state  well  known  to  alienists — 
while  others  were  entirely  blotted  out. 

I  referred  to  the  millionaire  who  lived  in  Stretton 
Street,  but  again  she  declared,  and  with  truth,  that  she 
had  no  recollection  of  him. 

"Perhaps,  Miss  Tennison,  you  knew  him  under  some 
other  name,"  I  said,  and  then  proceeded  to  describe  min- 
utely the  handsome,  rather  foreign-looking  man  who  had 
bribed  me  to  give  that  certificate  of  death. 

"  Have  you  an  uncle  ?  "  I  asked  presently,  recollecting 
that  the  man  at  Stretton  Street  had  declared  the  victim 
to  be  his  niece. 

"  I  have  an  uncle — my  mother's  brother — he  lives  in 
Liverpool." 

Again  I  fell  to  wondering  whether  the  beautiful  girl 
before  me  was  actually  the  same  person  whose  death  I 
had  certified  to  be  due  to  heart  disease,  and  who,  accord- 
ing to  the  official  records,  had  been  cremated.  She  was 
very  like — and  yet?  Well,  the  whole  affair  was  a  prob- 
lem which  each  hour  became  more  inscrutable. 

Still  the  fact  remained  that  Gabrielle  Tennison  had 


"RED,  GREEN  AND  GOLD!"  147 

disappeared  suddenly  on  November  the  seventh,  the 
night  I  had  met  with  my  amazing  adventure. 

In  reply  to  my  further  questions,  as  she  sat  staring 
blankly  into  my  face  with  those  great  dark  eyes  of  hers, 
I  at  last  gathered  that  Doctor  Moroni,  hearing  of  her  case 
from  a  specialist  in  Harley  Street,  to  whom  she  had 
been  taken  by  the  police-surgeon,  had  called  upon  her 
mother,  and  had  had  a  long  interview  with  her.  After- 
wards he  had  called  daily,  and  later  Mrs.  Tennison  had 
allowed  him  to  take  her  daughter  to  Florence  to  con- 
sult another  specialist  at  the  hospital  of  Santa  Maria 
Nuova. 

"  I  think  you  know  a  Mrs.  Cullerton,"  I  remarked  at 
last. 

The  effect  of  my  words  upon  her  was  almost  electrical. 

"  Dolly  Cullerton  !  "  she  shrieked.  "  Ah !  Don't  men- 
tion that  woman's  name !  Please  do  not  mention  her !  " 

"  I  believed  that  she  was  a  friend  of  yours,"  I  said, 
much  surprised. 

"  Friend  ?     No,  enemy — a  bitter  enemy !  " 

"  Then  you  have  quarrelled  ?  She  was  once  your  friend 
— eh  ?  Over  what  have  you  quarrelled  ?  " 

"  That  is  my  own  affair ! "  she  snapped  in  apparent 
annoyance.  "If  you  know  her,  don't  trust  her.  I  warn 
you !  "  Then  she  added :  "  She  is  a  wicked  woman." 

"  And  her  husband,  Jack?  " 

"  Ah !  he's  an  excellent  fellow — far  too  good  for  her !  " 

"  Why  do  you  entertain  such  antipathy  toward  her  ?  " 
I  asked.  "  Do  tell  me,  because  it  will  make  my  inquiries 
so  very  much  easier." 

"Inquiries?    What  inquiries  are  you  making?" 

I  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  looking  straight  into 
her  eyes,  I  replied  very  seriously: 

"  I  am  making  inquiries,  Miss  Tennison,  into  what  hap- 


148        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

pened  to  you  during  those  days  when  you  disappeared. 
I  am  seeking  to  bring  punishment  upon  those  who  are 
responsible  for  your  present  condition." 

She  shook  her  head  mournfully,  and  a  faint  smile 
played  about  her  lips.  But  she  did  not  reply. 

"  Tell  me  more  about  Mrs.  Cullerton,"  I  went  on. 
"  She  was  in  Florence  when  you  were  there." 

"  In  Florence !  "  exclaimed  the  girl,  as  though  amazed. 
"  What  could  she  be  doing  there  ?  " 

"  She  was  living  in  a  furnished  villa  with  her  husband. 
And  she  went  on  several  visits  to  Mr.  De  Gex  who  live% 
up  at  Fiesole.  Are  you  quite  sure  you  do  not  know 
him  ?  "  I  asked.  "  He  lives  at  the  Villa  Clementini.  Have 
you  ever  been*  there  ?  Does  the  Villa  Clementini  recall 
anything  to  you?  " 

She  was  thoughtful  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  said: 

"  I  seem  to  have  heard  of  the  villa,  but  in  what  con- 
nexion I  do  not  recollect." 

"  You  are  certain  you  do  not  know  the  owner  of  the 
villa  ? "  I  asked  again,  and  described  him  once  more 
very  minutely. 

But  alas !  her  mind  seemed  a  perlect  blank. 

For  what  reason  had  Moroni  come  to  London  and 
taken  her  with  him  to  Florence?  But  for  the  matter 
of  that,  what  could  be  the  motive  of  the  whole  puzzling 
affair — and  further,  whose  was  the  body  that  had  been 
cremated  ? 

The  points  I  had  established  all  combined  to  form  an 
enigma  which  now  seemed  utterly  beyond  solution. 

The  pale  tragic  figure  before  me  held  me  incensed 
against  those  whose  victim  she  had  been,  for  it  seemed 
that  for  some  distinct  reason  her  mental  balance  had 
been  wantonly  destroyed. 

Again  and  again,  as  she  sat  with  her  hands  lying  idlv 


"RED,  GREEN  AND  GOLD!"  149 

in  her  lap,  she  stared  at  the  carpet  and  repeated  to  her- 
self in  a  horrified  voice  those  strange  words :  "  Red,  green 
and  gold  ! — red,  green  and  gold !  " 

"Cannot  you  recollect  about  those  colours?"  I  asked 
her  kindly.  "  Try  and  think  about  them.  Where  did 
you  see  them  ?  " 

She  drew  a  long  breath,  and  turning  her  tired  eyes  upon 
mine,  she  replied  wearily : 

"  I — I  can't  remember.  I  really  can't  remember  any- 
thing!" 

Sometimes  her  eyes  were  fixed  straight  before  her 
just  as  I  had  seen  her  in  the  Via  Calzajoli  in  Florence — 
when  I  had  believed  her  to  be  blind.  At  such  times  her 
gaze  was  vacant,  and  she  seemed  to  be  entirely  oblivious 
to  all  about  her.  At  others  she  seemed  quite  normal, 
save  that  she  could  not  recall  what  had  occurred  in 
those  days  when  she  was  lost  to  her  friends— days  when 
I,  too,  had  been  missing  and  had  returned  to  my  senses 
with  my  own  memory  either  distorted  or  blotted  out. 

Could  it  be  that  the  same  drug,  or  other  diabolical 
method,  had  been  used  upon  us  both,  and  that  I,  the 
stronger  of  the  two,  had  recovered,  while  she  still  re- 
mained in  that  half  demented  state? 

It  certainly  seemed  so.  Hence  the  more  I  reflected  the 
more  intense  became  my  resolve  to  fathom  the  mystery 
and  bring  those  responsible  to  justice. 

Further,  she  had  been  terrified  by  being  told  that  I 
intended  to  come  there  to  kill  her!  Moroni  had  pur- 
posely told  her  that,  evidently  in  anticipation  that  we 
might  meet!  He  had  pointed  me  out  in  Florence  and 
warned  her  that  I  was  her  bitterest  enemy.  Was  it  there- 
fore any  wonder  that  she  would  not  tell  me  more  than 
absolutely  obliged? 


150        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  Do  you  recollect  ever  meeting  a  French  gentleman 
named  Monsieur  Suzor  ?  "  I  asked  her  presently. 

Instantly  she  exchanged  glances  with  the  woman  Al- 
ford. 

"  No,"  was  her  slow  reply,  her  eyes  again  downcast. 
"  I  have  no  knowledge  of  any  such  man." 

It  was  upon  the  tip  of  my  tongue  to  point  out  that  they 
had  met  that  mysterious  Frenchman  in  Kensington  Gar- 
dens, but  I  hesitated.  They  certainly  were  unaware  that 
I  had  watched  them. 

Again,  my  French  friend  was  a  mystery.  I  did  not 
lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  our  first  meeting  had  taken 
place  on  the  day  before  my  startling  adventure  in  Stret- 
ton  Street,  and  I  began  to  wonder  whether  the  man  from 
Paris  had  not  followed  me  up  to  York  and  purposely 
joined  the  train  in  which  I  had  travelled  back  to  London. 

Why  did  both  the  woman  Alford  and  Gabrielle  Tenni- 
son  deny  all  knowledge  of  the  man  whom  they  had  met 
with  such  precautions  of  secrecy,  and  who,  when  after- 
wards he  discovered  that  I  was  following  him,  had  so 
cleverly  evaded  me?  The  man  Suzor  was  evidently  im- 
plicated in  the  plot,  though  I  had  never  previously  sus- 
pected it !  Twice  he  had  travelled  with  me,  meeting  me 
as  though  by  accident,  yet  I  now  saw  that  he  had  been 
my  companion  with  some  set  purpose  in  view. 

What  could  it  be? 

It  became  quite  plain  that  I  could  not  hope  to  obtain 
anything  further  from  either  Gabrielle  or  the  servant, 
therefore  I  assumed  a  polite  and  sympathetic  attitude 
and  told  them  that  I  hoped  to  call  again  on  Mrs.  Tenni- 
son's  return.  Afterwards  I  left,  feeling  that  at  least  I 
had  gained  some  knowledge,  even  though  it  served  to 
bewilder  me  the  more. 

Later  I  called  upon  Sir  Charles  Wendover  in  Caven- 


"  RED,  GREEN  AND  GOLD !"  151 

dish  Square,  whom  I  found  to  be  a  quiet  elderly  man  of 
severe  professional  aspect  and  demeanour,  a  man  whose 
photograph  I  had  often  seen  in  the  newspapers,  for  he 
was  one  of  the  best-known  of  mental  specialists. 

When  I  explained  that  the  object  of  my  visit  was  to 
learn  something  of  the  case  of  my  friend  Miss  Tennison, 
he  asked  me  to  sit  down  and  then  switched  on  a  green- 
shaded  reading-lamp  and  referred  to  a  big  book  upon 
his  writing  table.  His  consulting  room  was  dull  and 
dark,  with  heavy  Victorian  furniture  and  a  great  book- 
case filled  with  medical  works.  In  the  chair  in  which  I 
sat  persons  of  all  classes  had  sat  while  he  had  examined 
and  observed  them,  and  afterwards  given  his  opinion 
to  their  friends. 

"  Ah !  yes,"  he  exclaimed,  when  at  last  he  found  the 
notes  he  had  made  upon  the  case.  "  I  saw  the  young 
lady  on  the  twenty-eighth  of  November.  A  most  peculiar 
case — most  peculiar!  Leicester  and  Franklyn  both  saw 
her,  but  they  were  just  as  much  puzzled  as  myself." 

And  through  his  big  round  horn  spectacles  he  con- 
tinued reading  to  himself  the  several  pages  of  notes. 

"  Yes,"  he  remarked  at  last.  "  I  now  recall  all  the 
facts.  A  very  curious  case.  The  young  lady  disappeared 
from  her  friends,  and  was  found  some  days  later  wander- 
ing near  Petersfield,  in  Hampshire,  in  an  exhausted  con- 
dition. She  could  not  account  for  her  disappearance,  or 
the  state  in  which  she  was.  Her  memory  had  completely 
gone,  and  she  has  not,  I  believe,  yet  recovered  it." 

"  No,  she  has  not,"  I  said.  "  But  the  reason  I  have 
ventured  to  call,  Sir  Charles,  is  to  hear  your  opinion  on 
the  case." 

"  My  opinion !  "  he  echoed.  "  What  opinion  can  I  hold 
when  the  effect  is  so  plain — loss  of  memory  ?  " 


152        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  Ah !  But  how  could  such  a  state  of  mind  be  pro- 
duced ? "  I  asked. 

"  You  ask  me  for  the  cause.  That,  my  dear  sir,  I 
cannot  say,"  was  his  answer.  "  There  are  several  causes 
which  would  produce  a  similar  effect.  Probably  it  was 
some  great  shock.  But  of  what  nature  we  cannot  pos- 
sibly discover  unless  she  herself  recovers  her  normal 
memory  so  far  as  to  be  able  to  assist  us.  I  see  that  I 
have  noted  how  she  constantly  repeats  the  words  '  red, 
green  and  gold.'  That  combination  of  colours  has  ap- 
parently impressed  itself  upon  her  mind  to  such  an  ex- 
tent that  it  has  become  an  obsession.  Often  she  will 
utter  no  other  words  than  those.  She  was  seen  by  a 
number  of  eminent  men,  but  nobody  could  suggest  any 
•cause  other  than  shock." 

"  Is  it  possible  that  some  drug  could  have  been  admin- 
istered to  her?" 

"  Everything  is  possible,"  Sir  Charles  answered.  "  But 
I  know  of  no  drug  which  would  produce  such  effect.  In 
brief,  I  confess  that  I  have  no  idea  what  can  have 
caused  the  sudden  mental  breakdown." 

I  felt  impelled  to  relate  to  him  the  whole  story  of  my 
own  adventures,  but  I  hesitated.  As  a  matter  of  fact  I 
feared  that  he  might  regard  it,  as  he  most  probably  would 
have  done,  as  a  mere  chimera  of  my  own  imagination. 

A  girl  I  had  seen  dead — or  believed  I  had  seen  dead — 
was  now  living!  And  she  was  Gabrielle  Tennison. 

Of  that  I  had  no  doubt,  for  the  dates  of  our  adven- 
tures corresponded. 

And  yet  a  girl  also  named  Gabrielle  had  died  and  her 
"body  had  been  cremated! 

The  whole  affair  seemed  to  be  beyond  human  credence. 
And  yet  you,  my  reader,  have  in  this  record  the  exact, 
hard  and  undeniable  facts. 


CHAPTER  THE  THIRTEENTH 

SOME  INTERESTING  REVELATIONS 

NEXT  day  I  went  to  the  office  of  Francis  and  Goldsmith,. 
and  after  a  consultation  with  both  principals,  during 
which  I  briefly  outlined  the  curious  circumstances  such 
as  I  have  here  related,  I  was  granted  further  leave  of 
absence. 

Yet  I  entertained  a  distinct  feeling  that  old  Mr.  Francis 
somewhat  doubted  the  truth  of  my  statements.  But  was 
it  surprising,  so  extraordinary  had  been  my  adventures? 

"  Perhaps  you  do  not  credit  my  statements,  gentlemen," 
I  said  before  leaving  their  room.  "  But  one  day  I  hope 
to  solve  the  enigma,  and  you  will  then  learn  one  of  the 
most  extraordinary  stories  that  any  man  has  lived  to 
tell." 

Afterwards  I  went  round  to  the  Carlton  and  inquired 
for  Monsieur  Suzor.  To  my  surprise  he  was  in. 

Therefore  I  was  ushered  up  to  his  private  sitting-room, 
where  he  greeted  me  very  warmly — so  frankly  welcome 
did  he  make  me,  indeed,  that  I  wondered  whether,  after 
all,  he  had  detected  me  following  him,  or  whether  he 
had  entered  and  escaped  from  that  house  in  the  Euston 
Road  with  some  entirely  different  motive. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  friend !  "  he  cried  in  his  excellent  Eng- 
lish. "  I  wondered  what  had  become  of  you.  I  called  at 
Rivermead  Mansions  three  days  ago,  but  I  could  get  no 
reply  when  I  rang  at  your  flat.  The  porter  said  that 
both  you  and  your  friend  were  out,  and  he  had  no  idea 
when  you  would  return.  J  go  back  to  Paris  to-morrow." 

i53 


154        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  Shall  you  fly  across  this  time  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No.  I  go  by  train.  I  have  a  lot  of  luggage — some 
purchases  I  have  made  for  my  friend  the  Baroness  de 
Henonville." 

It  was  then  about  five  o'clock,  so  he  ordered  some  tea, 
and  over  cigarettes  we  chatted  for  nearly  an  hour. 

The  longer  I  conversed  with  him  the  more  mysterious 
he  appeared.  Why  had  he  crossed  from  Paris  to  London 
with  me  in  order  to  meet  clandestinely  the  poor  girl  who 
was  the  rich  man's  victim?  That  was  one  point  which 
arose  in  my  mind. 

But  the  main  question  was  the  reason  of  his  supposed 
chance  meeting  with  me  in  the  express  between  York 
and  London. 

During  our  chat  I  feared  to  refer  to  Gabrielle  lest  he 
should  suspect  that  I  knew  of  his  subtle  intrigue.  I 
could  see  that  he  was  congratulating  himself  upon  his 
cleverness  in  misleading  me,  therefore  I  chuckled  in- 
wardly. 

What  I  desired  most  at  that  moment  was  to  establish 
the  connexion  between  the  elegant  cosmopolitan  French- 
man and  Oswald  De  Gex  with  his  wily  accomplice  Moroni. 
That  the  latter  was  a  man  of  criminal  instinct  I  had 
long  ago  established.  He  was  a  toady  to  a  man  of  im- 
mense wealth — a  clever  medical  man  who,  by  reason  of 
his  callous  unscrupulousness,  was  a  dealer  in  Death  in 
its  most  insidious  and  least-looked-for  form.  The  hand 
of  death  is  ever  at  the  command  of  every  medical  man, 
hence  mankind  has  to  thank  the  medical  profession — 
one  of  the  hardest-worked  and  least  recognized  in  the 
world — for  its  honesty,  frankness  and  strict  uprightness. 
In  every  profession  we  have  black  sheep — even,  alas ! 
in  the  Church.  But  happily  unscrupulousness  in  those 


SOME  INTERESTING  REVELATIONS      155 

who  practise  medicine  in  Great  Britain  is  practically  an 
unknown  quantity. 

But  in  Europe  it  is  different,  for  in  the  dossiers  held 
by  the  police  of  Paris,  Rome,  Madrid  and  Berlin  criminals 
who  practise  medicine  are  written  largely,  as  witnessed 
by  the  evidence  in  more  than  one  famous  trial  where 
the  accused  has  been  sentenced  to  death. 

I  longed  to  go  to  Scotland  Yard  and  tell  my  story.  Yet 
how  could  I  do  so  when,  in  a  drawer  in  my  room,  there 
reposed  that  bundle  of  Bank  of  England  notes,  the  price 
paid  to  me  for  being  the  accomplice  of  a  mysterious 
crime?  I  could  only  seek  a  solution  of  the  enigma  alone 
and  unaided  by  the  authorities.  I  seemed  to  be  making 
a  little  headway,  yet  each  fact  I  established  added  com- 
plications to  the  amazing  affair. 

Further,  I  must  here  confess  to  you  that  during  the 
past  day  or  two  I  had  found  myself  actually  in  love  with 
the  beautiful  girl  whose  mentality  had  been  wilfully 
destroyed  by  some  means  which  medical  science  failed  to 
establish.  From  the  first  I  had  been  filled  with  great 
admiration  for  her.  She  was  indeed  very  beautiful,  with 
wonderful  eyes  and  a  perfect  complexion.  There  was 
grace  in  every  movement,  save  when  at  times  she  held 
herself  rigid,  with  fixed  blank  eyes  as  though  fascinated, 
or  gripped  by  some  invisible  power.  More  than  once  I 
had  wondered  whether  she  were  under  hypnotic  influence, 
but  that  theory  had  been  completely  negatived  by  Sir 
Charles  Wendover. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  I  had  now  fallen  desperately  in 
love  with  the  girl  whom  I  was  seeking  to  rescue  from  her 
enemies. 

Why  had  the  body  of  Gabrielle  Engledue  been  cre- 
mated if  not  to  destroy  all  evidence  of  a  crime?  Gabrielle 
Tennison  still  lived ;  therefore  another  woman  must  have 


156         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

lost  her  life  by  foul  means — most  probably  by  poison — 
in  face  of  the  pains  that  were  taken  by  Moroni  to  efface 
all  trace  of  the  cause  of  death. 

Over  our  tea  the  affable  French  banker  told  me  of  a 
rapid  journey  to  Liverpool  which  he  had  taken  a  few 
days  before,  he  having  some  pressing  business  with  a 
man  who  was  on  the  point  of  sailing  for  New  York. 
The  person  in  question  had  absconded  from  Paris  owing 
the  bank  a  large  sum  of  money,  and  he  had  that  day 
cabled  to  the  New  York  police  asking  for  his  arrest  on 
landing. 

"  I  shall  probably  be  compelled  to  go  across  to  America 
and  apply  for  him  to  be  sent  back  to  Paris,"  my  friend 
said,  "  so  I  am  going  back  for  instructions." 

As  he  spoke  I  pondered.  Was  it  possible  that  he  was 
unaware  of  the  surveillance  I  had  kept  upon  him  during 
and  after  his  secret  interview  with  Gabrielle?  If  so, 
why  had  he  entered  that  dingy  house  in  the  Euston  Road 
and  made  his  exit  by  the  back  way?  I  had  established 
the  fact  that  the  house  was  well-known  to  thieves  of  a 
certain  class  who  used  it  in  order  to  escape  being  followed. 
Several  such  houses  exist  in  London.  One  is  near  the 
Elephant  and  Castle,  another  in  the  Clapham  Road,  while 
there  is  one  in  Hammersmith  Road,  and  still  another  just 
off  Clarence  Terrace  at  Regent's  Park.  Such  houses 
serve  as  sanctuaries  for  those  escaping  from  justice.  The 
latter  know  them,  and  as  they  slip  through  they  pay 
a  toll,  well-knowing  that  the  keeper  of  the  house  will 
deny  that  they  have  ever  been  there. 

The  "  in-and-out  "  houses  of  London  and  their  keepers, 
always  sly  crooks,  form  a  particular  study  in  themselves. 
One  pretends  to  be  a  garage,  another  a  private  hotel,  a 
third  a  small  greengrocer's,  and  a  fourth  a  boot  repair- 
er's. All  those  trades  are  carried  on  as  "  blinds."  The 


SOME  INTERESTING  REVELATIONS      157 

public  believe  them  to  be  honest  businesses,  but  there  is 
far  more  business  done  in  concealing  those  wanted  by 
the  police  than  in  anything  else. 

From  Suzor's  demeanour  I  felt  that  he  did  not  sus- 
pect me  of  having  been  witness  of  his  entry  into  that 
frowsy  house  near  Euston  Station.  But  why  had  he 
gone  there?  He  must  have  feared  that  he  might  be 
watched.  And  why?  The  only  answer  to  that  question 
was  that  he  had  met  Gabrielle  clandestinely  and  feared 
lest  afterwards  he  might  be  followed. 

But  why  should  he  fear  if  not  implicated  in  the  plot? 

To  me  it  now  seemed  plain  that  I  had  been  marked 
down  as  a  pawn  in  the  game  prior  to  that  day  when  we 
travelled  together  from  York  to  London.  I  had  not 
altogether  recovered  from  the  effect  of  what  had  been 
administered  to  me.  Often  I  felt  a  curious  sensation 
of  dizziness  and  of  overwhelming  depression,  which  I 
knew  was  the  after  effects  of  that  loss  of  all  sense  of 
my  surroundings  when  I  had  been  taken  to  the  hospital 
in  St.  Malo.  I  had  been  found  at  the  roadside  in  France, 
just  as  Gabrielle  had  been  found  on  the  highway  near 
Petersfield. 

When  I  reflected  my  blood  boiled. 

The  affable  and  highly  cultured  Frenchman  presented 
a  further  enigma.  He  was  crossing  back  to  Paris  next 
day.  What  if  I,  too,  went  back  to  Paris  and  watched  his 
further  movements  ?  As  I  sat  chatting  and  laughing  with 
him,  I  decided  upon  this  course. 

When,  shortly  afterwards,  I  left,  I  went  straight  across 
Hammersmith  Bridge  and  found  that  Harry  Hambledon 
had  just  returned  from  his  office. 

We  sat  together  at  table,  whereupon  I  told  him  one  or 
two  facts  I  had  discovered,  and  urged  him  to  cross  to 
Paris  with  me  next  day. 


158         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  You  see,  you  can  watch — for  you  will  be  a  perfect 
stranger  to  Suzor.  I  will  bear  the  expense.  I've  still  got 
a  little  money  in  the  bank.  We  can  see  Suzor  off  from 
Charing  Cross,  then  take  a  taxi  to  Croydon,  fly  over, 
and  be  in  Paris  hours  before  he  arrives  at  the  Gare  du 
Nord.  There  you  will  wait  for  his  arrival,  follow  him 
and  see  his  destination." 

Hambledon,  who  was  already  much  interested  in  my 
strange  adventures,  quickly  saw  the  point. 

"  I've  got  one  or  two  rather  urgent  things  on  to- 
morrow," he  replied.  "  But  if  you  really  wish  me  to  go 
with  you  I  can  telephone  to  my  friend  Hardy  and  ask 
him  to  look  after  them  for  me.  We  shan't  be  away 
very  long,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  A  week  at  the  most,"  I  said.  "  I  want  to  establish 
the  true  identity  of  this  banker  friend  of  mine.  I  have 
a  distinct  suspicion  of  him." 

"  And  so  have  I,"  Hambledon  said.  "  Depend  upon  it, 
some  big  conspiracy  has  been  afoot,  and  they  are  now 
endeavouring  to  cover  up  all  traces  of  their  villainy.  I 
was  discussing  it  with  Norah  when  we  were  walking  in 
Richmond  Park  last  night." 

"  I  quite  agree,"  I  replied.  "  Then  we'll  fly  across  to 
Paris  at  lunch-time  to-morrow,  and  keep  watch  upon 
this  man  who  meets  Miss  Tennison  in  secret  and  then 
uses  a  thieves'  sanctuary  in  order  to  escape." 

'  That  story  of  the  absconding  customer  of  the  bank 
is  a  fiction,  I  believe,"  Harry  exclaimed. 

"  I'm  certain  it  is,"  I  said. 

"  Then  why  should  he  have  told  it  to  you  if  he  did 
not  suspect  that  you  had  been  watching?"  my  friend 
queried. 

I  had   not   considered   that  point.     It  was   certainly 


SOME  INTERESTING  REVELATIONS      159 

strange,  to  say  the  least,  that  he  should  thus  have  en- 
deavoured to  mislead  me. 

Next  morning  Hambledon  was  up  early  and  went  to 
Charing  Cross,  where  he  watched  the  banker's  departure. 
Afterwards  he  returned,  and  with  our  suit-cases  we 
travelled  down  to  the  London  Terminal  Aerodrome  at 
Croydon,  where,  just  before  noon,  we  entered  one  of  the 
large  passenger  aeroplanes  which  fly  between  London  and 
Paris.  Within  half  an  hour  of  our  arrival  at  the  aero- 
drome we  were  already  in  the  air  sailing  gaily  southward 
towards  Lympne,  near  Folkestone,  where  we  had  to  report 
previous  to  crossing  the  Channel. 

The  morning  was  bright,  and  although  cold  the  visibility 
was  excellent.  Below  us  spread  a  wide  panorama  of  tiny 
square  fields  and  small  clusters  of  houses  that  were  vil- 
lages, and  larger  ones  with  straight  roads  running  like 
ribbons  through  them,  which  were  towns. 

The  dark  patches  dotting  the  ground  beneath  us  were 
woods  and  coppices,  while  running  straight  beneath  was  a 
tiny  train  upon  the  railway  between  Folkestone  and  Lon- 
don. There  were  three  other  passengers  beside  ourselves, 
apparently  French  business  men,  who  were  all  excitement, 
it  evidently  being  their  first  flight. 

Very  soon  we  could  see  the  sea,  and  presently  we  could 
also  discern  the  French  coast. 

As  we  approached  Lympne  the  observer  telephoned 
by  wireless  back  to  Croydon  telling  them  of  our  position, 
and  in  a  few  moments  we  were  high  over  the  Channel. 
At  Marquise,  on  the  other  side,  we  again  reported,  and 
then  following  the  railway  line  we  sped  towards  Paris 
long  before  the  express,  by  which  the  banker  was  travel- 
ling, had  left  Calais. 

Indeed,  shortly  before  three  o'clock  we  had  installed 
ourselves  at  the  Hotel  Terminus  at  the  Gare  St.  Lazare, 


160        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

in  Paris,  and  afterwards  took  a  stroll  along  the  boule- 
vards, awaiting  the  time  when  the  express  from  Calais 
was  due  at  the  Gare  du  Nord. 

Shortly  before  half-past  five  Hambledon  left  me  and 
took  a  taxi  to  the  station  for  the  purpose  of  watching 
Suzor's  arrival  and  ascertaining  his  destination,  which, 
of  course,  I  feared  to  do,  lest  he  should  recognize  me. 

It  was  not  until  past  nine  o'clock  that  evening  that  my 
friend  returned  to  the  hotel.  He  described  how  Suzor 
on  arrival  at  the  Gare  du  Nord  had  been  met  by  a  young 
English  lady,  and  the  pair  had  driven  straight  to  the 
Rotonde  Restaurant  at  the  corner  of  the  Boulevard  Hauss- 
mann,  where  they  had  dined  together. 

"  I  dined  near  them,  and  one  could  see  plainly  that 
their  conversation  was  a  very  earnest  one,"  declared 
my  companion.  "  She  seemed  to  be  relating  something, 
and  apparently  was  most  apprehensive,  while  he,  on  his 
part,  seemed  gravely  perplexed.  Though  he  ordered  an 
expensive  meal  they  scarcely  touched  it.  They  sat  in  a 
corner  and  spoke  in  English,  but  I  could  not  catch  a  single 
word." 

In  response  to  my  request  he  described  Suzor's  lady 
friend. 

Then  he  added :  "  She  wore  only  one  ornament,  a 
beautiful  piece  of  apple-green  jade  suspended  round  her 
neck  by  a  narrow  black  ribbon.  When  they  rose  and 
the  waiter  brought  their  coats,  I  heard  him  call  her 
Dorothy." 

"Dorothy  Cullerton ! "  I  gasped.  "I  recollect  that 
piece  of  Chinese  jade  she  wore  in  Florence !  What  is  she 
doing  here,  meeting  that  man  clandestinely?  " 

'*  The  man  slipped  something  into  her  hand  beneath 
the  table  and  she  put  it  into  her  hand-bag,"  Hambledon 


SOME  INTERESTING  REVELATIONS      161 

said.  "  I  have  a  suspicion  that  it  was  a  small  roll  of 
French  bank  notes." 

"  Payment  for  some  information,  perhaps,"  I  said.  "  I 
don't  trust  that  young  stockbroker's  wife.  Well  ? "  I 
asked.  "And  what  then?" 

"  On  leaving  the  Rotonde  they  drove  to  the  Rue  de 
Rivoli,  where  the  lady  alighted  and  entered  the  Hotel 
Wagram,  while  he  went  along  to  the  Hotel  du  Louvre," 
was  his  reply. 

I  was  much  puzzled  at  the  secret  meeting  between  the 
affable  Frenchman  and  young  Mrs.  Cullerton,  and  next 
day  by  watching  the  entrance  to  the  Hotel  Wagram, 
which  was  an  easy  matter  in  the  bustle  of  the  Rue  de 
Rivoli,  I  satisfied  myself  that  my  surmise  was  correct, 
for  at  eleven  o'clock  she  came  forth,  entered  a  taxi,  and 
drove  away. 

My  next  inquiry  was  at  the  head  office  of  the  Credit 
Lyonnais,  in  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens,  but,  as  I  sus- 
pected, the  name  of  my  French  fellow-traveller  was  un- 
known. 

"  We  have  no  official  of  the  name  of  Suzor,"  replied 
the  polite  assistant  director  whom  I  had  asked  to  see. 
"  The  gentleman  must  be  pretending  to  be  associated  with 
us,  monsieur.  It  is  not  the  first  time  we  have  heard  of 
such  a  thing." 

So  it  was  apparent  that  Suzor  was  not  a  bank  official 
after  all! 

In  the  meantime  Hambledon  was  keeping  watch  at  the 
Hotel  du  Louvre,  and  it  was  not  until  afternoon  that  he 
rejoined  me  to  report  what  had  occurred. 

It  seemed  that  Suzor  had,  just  before  noon,  strolled 
to  the  Grand  Cafe,  where  he  had  met  a  well-dressed  man 
who  was  awaiting  him.  They  took  coffee  together,  and 
then  entering  a  taxi  drove  out  to  the  Bois,  where  at  the 


162        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

Pre  Catelan  they  were  joined  by  a  smartly  dressed  young 
woman  who  was,  no  doubt,  an  actress.  The  three  sat 
talking  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  after  which  the  two 
men  left  her  and  returned  to  a  small  restaurant  in  the 
boulevard  St.  Martin,  where  they  took  their  dejeuner. 
Afterwards  Suzor  had  returned  to  his  hotel. 

At  my  suggestion  my  companion  had  become  on 
friendly  terms  with  the  under  concierge,  who  had  prom- 
ised to  inform  him  if  Monsieur  Suzor  should  chance  to 
be  leaving. 

It  was  well  that  he  had  arranged  this,  for  when  at  six 
o'clock  Hambledon  again  went  to  the  hotel  the  man  in 
uniform  told  him  that  Monsieur  Suzor  was  leaving  the 
Quai  d'Orsay  at  eleven  o'clock  that  night  by  the  through 
express  for  Madrid. 

I  saw  that  for  me  to  travel  to  Spain  by  the  same 
train  as  the  man  who  had  posed  as  a  banker  would  be  to 
court  exposure.  Hence  Hambledon  volunteered  to  travel 
to  the  Spanish  capital  in  all  secrecy,  while  I  promised  to 
join  him  as  soon  as  he  sent  me  his  address. 

That  journey  was  destined  to  be  an  adventurous  one 
indeed,  as  I  will  duly  explain  to  you,  but  its  results 
proved  more  startling  and  astounding  than  we  ever  antici- 
pated. 


CHAPTER  THE  FOURTEENTH 

THE  GATE  OF  THE  SUN 

THE  spring  morning  was  grey  and  rather  threatening  as 
I  left  the  Hotel  de  la  Paix  in  Madrid  and  walked  from 
the  Puerta  del  Sol  past  the  smart  shops  in  the  Carrera  de 
San  Jeronimo  and  across  the  broad  handsome  Plaza  de 
Canovas,  in  order  to  meet  Hambledon  at  a  point  which 
he  had  indicated  in  the  Retiro  Park. 

Late  on  the  previous  night  I  had  arrived  in  the  Spanish 
capital,  and  while  Hambledon  was  at  the  Palace  Hotel 
in  the  Plaza  de  Canovas  I  had  gone  to  the  Paix  in  the 
Puerta  del'  Sol.  I  had  been  in  Madrid  only  once  before 
in  my  life,  and  as  I  walked  through  the  gay  thorough- 
fares I  recalled  that  proud  saying  of  the  Madrilenos: 
"  De  Madrid  al  cielo  y  en  el  cielo  un  ventanillo  para  ver 
a  Madrid"  (From  Madrid  to  Heaven,  and  in  Heaven  a 
loophole  to  look  at  Madrid).  The  Spanish  capital  to-day 
is  indeed  a  very  fine  city,  full  of  life,  of  movement,  and 
of  post-war  prosperity. 

Crossing  the  Prado,  where  the  trees  were  already  in 
full  leaf,  I  took  that  straight  broad  way  which  led  past 
the  Royal  Academy,  and  again  crossing  the  Calle  de 
Alfonso  XII  came  to  the  Alcahofa  fountain,  the  Fountain 
of  the  Artichoke,  near  which  I  waited  for  the  coming  of 
my  friend. 

I  stood  there  upon  ground  that  was  historic,  and  as  I 
gazed  around  upon  that  sylvan  scene,  I  wondered  what 
would  be  the  result  of  our  long  journey  from  River- 
mead  Mansions.  That  beautiful  park  which,  in  the 

163 


164        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

seventeenth  century,  had  been  laid  out  with  such  taste  by 
the  Conde-Duque  de  Olivares,  the  favourite  of  Philip 
IV,  had  been  the  scene  of  innumerable  festivals  which 
swallowed  millions  of  money,  and  gave  rise  to  many 
biting  "  pasquinas "  and  "  coplas."  To-day  it  is  the 
Hyde  Park  of  Spanish  Society.  There  all  the  latest 
Paris  fashions  are  seen  at  the  hour  of  the  promenade, 
and  everybody  who  is  anybody  in  Spain  must  be  seen 
walking  or  riding  along  its  picturesque  paths. 

I  had  not  long  to  wait  for  Hambledon,  for  after  a  few 
moments  his  familiar  sturdy  figure  came  into  sight. 

"  Well,  Hughie !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  we  sank  upon  a 
seat  together.  "  There's  some  deep  game  being  played 
here,  I'm  certain !  " 

"*What  game  ?  "  I  asked  quickly. 

"Ah!  I  can't  yet  make  it  out,"  he  replied.  "But 
I'll  tell  you  what's  occurred.  Suzor,  on  arrival,  went  to 
the  Ritz,  where  he  has  a  private  suite,  and  after  I  had 
watched  him  safely  there  I  took  up  my  quarters  at  the 
Palace  on  the  other  side  of  the  Square,  and  started  to 
keep  a  watch  upon  our  friend.  I  got  the  concierge  at 
the  Ritz  to  do  something  for  me  for  which  I  paid  him. 
generously,  so  as  to  pave  the  way -for  information  con- 
cerning Suzor,  in  case  we  may  want  it." 

"  Good,"  I  said.  "  There's  nothing  like  making  friends 
with  a  concierge.  He  knows  everything  about  the  visitors 
to  his  hotel,  and  about  their  friends  also." 

"  Well,  on  the  first  day  Suzor  did  not  go  out  at  all. 
But  on  the  second  morning  at  about  eleven  o'clock,  he 
came  forth  very  smartly  dressed,  and  strolling  along  the 
Calle  de  Alcala  turned  into  the  Gran  Cafe  where  an 
elderly  lady  dressed  in  black  was  awaiting  him.  She  was 
Spanish,  without  a  doubt.  He  greeted  her  with  studied 
courtesy  and  then  sat  down  opposite  her  at  the  little 


THE  GATE  OF  THE  SUN  165 

table  and  ordered  apcratifs.  They  conversed  together  in 
low,  earnest  tones.  She  seemed  to  be  questioning  him, 
while  he  gave  rather  hesitating  replies.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  he  had  come  to  Madrid  in  order  to  meet  her.  There- 
fore when  after  about  half  an  hour  they  parted,  I  fol- 
lowed the  lady.  She  took  a  cab  and  drove  to  the  North 
Station,  where  she  took  a  ticket  for  Segovia  which  I 
found  was  about  sixty  miles  from  here.  I,  of  course, 
entered  another  compartment  of  the  train  and  in  about 
three  hours  we  reached  our  destination.  At  the  station 
she  was  met  by  a  handsome  young  girl,  who  began  to 
ply  her  with  questions  to  which  the  elder  woman  replied 
in  monosyllables  as  the  pair  ascended  the  pretty  tree- 
lined  boulevard  that  led  into  the  picturesque  town  perched 
as  it  is  upon  a  rock  between  two  streams.  Half-way  up 
the  Passeo,  just  prior  to  entering  the  ancient  city  so  full 
of  antiquities,  the  two  ladies  went  in  the  gates  of  a  large 
white  house,  evidently  the  residence  of  someone  of  im- 
portance. Unseen,  I  watched  the  door  as  it  was  opened 
by  a  man-servant  who  bowed  to  them  as  he  admitted 
them.  Afterwards  I  passed  into  that  most  venerable  city 
of  Castile  where  I  found  a  hotel  called  the  Europeo, 
where  I  ordered  a  meal.  The  waiter  spoke  broken  Eng- 
lish, and  when  I  described  the  big  white  house  in  the 
Passeo  Ezequiel  Gonzalez  and  inquired  who  lived  there 
he  replied  that  it  was  the  Condesa  de  Chamartin  with 
her  niece  Senorita  Carmen  Florez.  The  Countess  was  the 
widow  of  an  immensely  wealthy  Spaniard  who  had  died 
leaving  most  of  his  money  away  from  his  wife.  There 
were  rumours  afloat  both  in  Segovia  and  in  Madrid — 
where  he  had  had  a  fine  house — that  the  widow  was  now 
in  quite  poor  circumstances.  Yet  the  Conde  de  Chamartin 
had  been  one  of  the  richest  men  in  Spain.  Then  I  came 
back  and  telegraphed  to  you  in  Paris." 


166  '     THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  What  has  Suzor  done  since  ?  " 

"  Practically  nothing.  He  hardly  ever  goes  out  in  the 
daytime,  which  shows  me  that  he  is  no  stranger  in  Madrid. 
Yet  almost  every  evening  after  dinner  he  goes  alone  to 
one  or  other  of  the  theatres,  or  to  the  variety  show  at 
the  Trianon.  Last  night  he  was  at  //  Trovatore,  at  the 
Teatro  Real." 

"Alone?" 

"  Always  alone." 

"  Then  why  has  he  come  here,  to  Madrid  ?  "  I  queried. 

"  In  order  to  meet  the  Condesa  de  Chamartin." 

"  But  he  has  already  met  her.  She  came  from  Segovia 
to  keep  that  appointment,  hence  one  would  think  he  would 
have  returned  to  Paris  by  this  time." 

"  We  can  only  watch,"  Hambledon  replied.  "  I  will 
continue  my  surveillance,  but  you  had  better  be  seen 
about  as  little  as  possible.  He  might  meet  and  recognize 
you.  Should  I  discover  anything,  or  should  I  want  to 
see  you,  I  will  either  telephone  to  you  at  your  hotel,  or 
we  will  meet  again — at  this  spot." 

Thus  it  was  arranged,  and  half  an  hour  later  we  parted. 

I  walked  back  to  my  hotel,  my  thoughts  occupied  by 
the  beautiful  girl  who  had  suddenly  so  possessed  me. 
Before  me,  by  day  and  by  night,  rose  visions  of  the  lovely 
countenance  of  that  strange,  half-bewildered  expression 
which  was  so  pathetic  and  so  mysterious.  I  recollected 
her  sweet  smiles  when  we  had  talked  in  her  mother's 
drawing-room  in  Longridge  Road,  and  I  knew  that  my 
admiration  had  already  ripened  into  love. 

But  it  was  all  so  mysterious,  so  incredible  indeed,  that 
I  hardly  dared  reflect  upon  those  amazing  events  of  the 
immediate  past. 

The  name  of  the  great  financier,  De  Gex,  was  one  to 
conjure  with  all  over  Europe.  Since  my  night's  adven- 


THE  GATE  OF  THE  SUN  167 

ture  in  Stretton  Street  I  had  learnt  much  concerning  him. 
His  nationality  was  obscure.  He  posed  as  an  Englishman, 
but  at  the  same  time  he  was  a  Frenchman,  an  Italian,  and 
a  Greek.  His  financial  tentacles  were  spread  through- 
out Europe.  Fabulously  wealthy,  he  held  a  controlling 
interest  in  a  number  of  banks  and  great  industrial  con- 
cerns, and  it  was  said  that  he  knew  the  capitals  of  the 
world  as  a  milkman  knows  the  streets  of  his  particular 
suburb. 

Behind  the  smoke-clouds  of  great  events  his  intriguing 
figure  followed  unseen,  unheralded,  influencing  dynasties 
through  his  secretaries  and  agents — one  of  whom  was 
Prime  Minister  of  a  foreign  kingdom — and  financing 
bankrupt  states. 

Now  and  then  he  emerged  from  the  retirement  of  the 
Villa  Clementini  and  would  go  to  Paris,  Brussels,  or 
Rome,  and  there  entertain  most  lavishly  Ministers  and 
aristocrats  of  various  nations,  and  frequently  give  them 
presents  at  the  dinner-table. 

One  man  declared  to  me  that  Oswald  De  Gex  was  the 
friend  of  mighty  persons  and  the  moulder  of  mighty 
events.  He  was  a  man  of  mystery  who  quietly  and  in 
secret  juggled  the  destinies  of  nations  in  his  gilded  fin- 
gers. Wherever  money  has  the  power  to  speak  there 
Oswald  De  Gex  would  be  found  smiling  an  inscrutable 
mysterious  smile,  but  always  the  centre  of  intrigue  and 
adventure. 

To  outwit  and  expose  such  a  man  I  was  determined. 

Back  in  the  hotel  I  stood  at  the  window  of  my  room, 
gazing  out  across  the  busy  plaza  upon  the  fine  Ministerio 
de  la  Gobernacion,  with  its  great  tlock  upon  the  faqade. 
The  Gateway  of  the  Rising  Sun  is  ever  a  scene  of  ani- 
mation, and  the  more  so  on  a  "  fiesta,"  which  it  happened 
to  be  that  day. 


168        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

I  stood  there  looking  blankly  out  upon  the  centre  of 
Madrid  life.  It  was  irksome  to  be  compelled  to  remain  in 
the  hotel  during  the  daytime  for  fear  of  recognition  by 
the  man  Suzor.  Why  had  he  held  that  secret  meeting 
with  the  widow  of  the  wealthy  Count  Chamartin?  Ham- 
bledon  had  certainly  acted  with  discretion  and  prompti- 
tude in  following  the  lady  in  black  to  her  home  in  Se- 
govia. Could  the  Frenchman's  visit  to  Madrid  be  in 
any  way  connected  with  the  affair  at  Stretton  Street  ? 

A  new  and  highly  interesting  feature  had  arisen  in  the 
fact  which  I  had  only  recently  discovered,  that  Suzor  had 
apparently  travelled  with  me  from  York  to  London  on 
that  well-remembered  afternoon  with  some  set  and  dis- 
tinct purpose.  He  had  been  most  affable,  and  he  had 
told  me  all  about  himself — a  story  which  I  now  knew 
to  be  fictitious.  In  return,  I  suppose  I  had  told  him 
something  about  myself,  but  the  exact  conversation  had 
long  ago  escaped  my  memory. 

I  had  had  no  suspicion  that  the  man  who  had  posed  as 
an  important  official  of  one  of  the  best  known  of  French 
banking  corporations  was  in  any  way  associated  with 
the  mysterious  Oswald  De  Gex,  until  I  had  seen  him 
meet  in  secret  the  girl  with  whom  I  had  fallen  so  violently 
in  love. 

I  tried  to  analyse  my  feelings  towards  Gabrielle  Ten- 
nison,  but  failed  utterly.  I  loved  her,  and  loving  her  so 
well,  I  now  set  my  whole  soul  upon  elucidating  the  mys- 
tery. 

Truly,  the  problem  was  most  puzzling,  presenting  fur- 
ther complications  at  every  turn. 

Through  the  day  I  idled  about  the  big  hotel,  occupying 
my  time  in  writing  letters  and  reading  the  papers.  The 
cafe  below  in  the  late  afternoon  was  crowded,  for  on 


THE  GATE  OF  THE  SUN  169 

the  day  of  a  fiesta  Madrid  is  always  agog  with  life  and 
movement. 

When  night  fell  and  I  ate  my  solitary  dinner  in  the 
big  restaurant,  where  I  specially  ordered  an  olla  with 
garbanoz,  a  dish  so  dear  to  the  Spanish  palate  and  which 
cannot  be  procured  beyond  the  confines  of  King  Alfonso's 
kingdom.  The  waiter  aided  me,  of  course,  and  he  smiled 
contentedly  when  I  gave  him  his  propina. 

Around  me  there  dined  as  smart  a  set  of  people  as 
those  who  frequented  the  Carlton  in  London,  and  perhaps 
the  toilettes  were  even  more  elaborate.  In  certain  femi- 
nine details  the  West  End  can  be  eclipsed  both  by  modern 
Madrid  and  Bucharest,  while  Paris  remains  where  she  has 
ever  been,  the  inventor  of  feminine  fashion  and  the 
alluring  City  of  Light. 

In  Madrid  to-day  one  has  all  the  pre-war  prosperity 
combined  with  post-war  extravagance.  The  latest  mode 
of  the  Rue  de  la  Paix  is  seen  at  the  Ritz  in  Madrid  almost 
before  it  is  seen  at  Armenonville,  and  it  becomes  only 
second-hand  when  it  has  filtered  through  Dover  Street — 
or  "  Petticoat  Lane,"  as  that  thoroughfare  is  termed  by 
truculent  London  bachelors. 

After  dinner  I  spent  an  hour  at  the  gay  Cafe  Iberia, 
in  the  Carrera  de  San  Jeronimo,  and  returned  early  to 
the  hotel. 

As  I  entered  the  concierge  met  me  with  a  note.  It  was 
from  Harry  Hambledon,  written  an  hour  before,  urging 
me  to  meet  him  at  the  Gato  Negro  Cafe  (The  Black 
Cat),  in  the  Calle  del  Principe. 

I  lost  no  time  in  keeping  the  appointment,  and  on  meet- 
ing my  friend,  he  whispered  excitedly : 

"  Suzor  has  a  visitor.  He  arrived  at  the  Ritz  at  six 
o'clock,  and  they  have  dined  together.  He  is  a  well- 
dressed  man  of  between  forty  and  fifty,  rather  sallow- 


170        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

faced,  and  has  given  his  name  at  the  hotel  as  Henri  Thi- 
bon,  rentier,  of  Bordeaux." 

"  Aged  nearly  fifty — sallow  ?  "  I  echoed.  "  Are  his 
features  of  a  rather  Oriental  cast — a  dark,  handsome 
man  with  deep-set  eyes  and  a  dimple  in  the  centre  of  his 
chin  ?  "  I  asked  eagerly. 

"  Yes.    That  just  describes  him." 

"  De  Gex !  "  I  gasped.    "  Then  he  is  here !  " 

"  After  dinner  they  went  out  to  the  Trianon.  They 
are  there  now." 

"  Then  we  will  watch  them  return  to  the  Ritz,"  I  said. 

We  spent  an  hour  together  in  the  cafe,  after  which 
we  rose  and  walked  through  the  well-lit  streets  and  along 
beneath  the  trees  of  the  Prado  until  we  came  to  the  great 
plaza  where,  opposite  the  Neptune  fountain,  the  fine  hotel 
stands  back  behind  its  gardens. 

We  both  halted  against  the  colossal  fountain,  the  waters 
of  which  were  plashing  into  the  great  basin,  and  found 
that  from  where  we  were  standing  we  had  a  good  view 
of  the  entrance  to  the  hotel.  That  the  theatres  were  over 
was  proved  by  the  number  of  cars  and  taxis  that  were 
depositing  people  in  evening-dress  who  had  come  to  the 
Ritz  to  supper.  Hence  we  had  not  long  to  wait  before  we 
distinguished  Suzor  and  his  companion,  both  in  dinner- 
jackets,  strolling  on  foot  across  the  Plaza  from  the  Calle 
de  Cervantes  in  the  direction  of  the  hotel. 

In  an  instant  I  recognized  the  form  of  the  mysterious 
owner  of  the  house  in  Stretton  Street. 

"  Yes !  "  I  cried.  "  I'm  not  mistaken !  But  why  is  he 
here  under  the  name  of  Thibon?  Without  a  doubt  he 
is  known  in  Madrid.  Why  should  he  seek  to  conceal  his 
identity  ?  " 

"  We  are  here  to  discover  the  motive  of  his  journey 
from  Italy.  According  to  his  passport  he  arrived  from 


THE  GATE  OF  THE  SUN  171 

Irun.  But  if  he  had  come  direct  from  Italy  he  would 
have  come  from  the  south — from  Barcelona,  most  prob- 
ably." 

"  He  has  a  house  in  Paris.  No  doubt  he  has  followed 
his  friend  Suzor  from  there.  It  will  be  interesting  to 
watch." 

As  I  spoke  the  pair  passed  up  the  steps  of  the  hotel  and 
were  lost  to  sight,  therefore  we  turned  and  retraced  our 
steps  along  the  wide  Carrera  de  San  Jeronimo  to  my  hotel 
where,  for  an  hour,  Hambledon  sat  in  my  room  discussing 
the  situation. 

He  suggested  that  he  should  move  from  the  Palace 
Hotel  to  the  Ritz,  which  was  only  just  opposite.  At  first 
it  seemed  a  good  idea,  but  on  reflection  I  did  not  agree, 
because  I  feared  lest  he  might  be  recognized  by  Suzor. 
De  Gex,  of  course,  would  not  know  him,  but  with  Suzor 
the  danger  of  recognition  was  always  great.  If  either 
realized  that  they  were  being  watched,  all  chances  of  solv- 
ing the  problem  would  instantly  disappear.  Only  by 
secret  and  patient  watchfulness  could  we  discover  the 
motive  of  that  amazing  affair  near  Park  Lane,  and  again 
the  truth  of  what  actually  occurred  on  that  fateful  Novem- 
ber night. 

"  There  is  no  doubt  some  further  devil's  game  is  in 
progress  here,"  I  declared,  as  Harry  sat  upon  my  bed 
smoking  a  cigarette,  while  I  was  stretched  in  an  easy- 
chair.  "  And  it  is  up  to  us  to  discover  what  it  is,  and 
whether  it  has  any  bearing  upon  the  plot  against  poor 
Gabrielle  Tennison." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Hambledon.  "  We  must  watch  all  their 
actions,  for  it  is  now  evident  that  this  fellow  Suzor  is 
deeply  implicated  in  the  conspiracy,  whatever  its  nature." 


THE  INTRUDER 

DURING  the  next  few  days  I  remained  idle  in  the  hotel, 
not  daring  to  go  out  while  it  was  light,  and  leaving  the 
surveillance  upon  De  Gex  and  his  friend  to  my  old  friend 
Hambledon. 

Each  night  we  met  at  one  cafe  or  another  as  we  ap- 
pointed, when  he  would  report  to  me  what  he  had  wit- 
nessed during  the  day.  It  seemed  that  De  Gex — or  Mon- 
sieur Thibon,  as  he  preferred  to  call  himself — shared 
Suzor's  private  sitting-room  and,  curiously  enough,  he 
also  did  not  go  out  in  the  daytime ! 

After  all,  that  was  not  surprising,  for  such  a  great 
figure  in  international  finance  was  probably  well-known  in 
the  Spanish  capital.  I  had  learnt  that  he  had  had  a 
hand  in  the  finances  of  Spain,  and  had  made  some  huge 
profits  thereby.  This  man  of  mystery  and  intrigue  was, 
I  felt,  there  in  Madrid  with  some  malice  aforethought. 
The  very  fact  that  he  feared  to  be  recognized  was  in  itself 
sufficient  proof !  On  the  other  hand,  Suzor  now  went 
out  in  the  daytime,  going  hither  and  thither  as  though 
transacting  business  for  his  friend.  Hambledon  had  re- 
ported to  me  how  he  had  sent  three  cipher  telegrams  by 
wireless  from  the  Correo  Central  in  the  Calle  Carretas,  the 
first  was  to  London,  the  second  on  the  following  noon  to 
an  address  in  Paris,  and  the  third  at  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning  to  Moroni  in  Florence.  The  message  to  the  lat- 
ter was  in  figures,  groups  of  five  numerals  as  used  by  the 

172 


THE  INTRUDER  173 

British  Admiralty.  Besides,  he  had  also  posted  several 
letters  in  that  big  box  at  the  chief  post-office  marked  "  Ex- 
tranjero." 

The  message  to  Moroni  was  highly  suspicious.  Harry 
Hambledon,  as  a  solicitor,  was,  of  course,  a  very  acute 
person,  and  in  addition  he  had  very  fortunately  entered 
into  the  true  spirit  of  the  adventure.  Though  he  longed 
to  be  back  again  at  Richmond  with  his  pretty  fiancee, 
Norah  Peyton,  yet  the  mystery  of  the  whole  affair  had 
bewildered  him,  and  he  was  as  keen  as  I  was  myself  in 
elucidating  the  strange  enigma. 

Moroni  was  no  doubt  a  tool  in  the  hands  of  that  quiet, 
sallow- faced  man  who,  by  reason  of  his  colossal  wealth 
and  huge  financial  resources,  could  even  make  and  un- 
make dynasties.  Oswald  De  Gex,  the  man  who  without 
nationality  or  patriotism  pulled  a  hundred  financial  strings 
both  in  Europe  and  in  America,  held  the  sinister  Doctor 
Moroni  in  his  pay.  I  could  discern  that  fact,  just  as  I 
could  see  that  the  man  Suzor,  who  had  so  cleverly  posed 
as  an  official  of  the  Credit  Lyonnais,  was  one  of  the  many 
confidential  agents  of  the  mysterious  De  Gex. 

One  evening  I  went,  by  appointment,  to  the  Nuevo 
Club,  to  which  I  had  been  admitted  as  a  foreign  member, 
and  in  the  smoking-room  I  awaited  Hambledon. 

At  last  he  came  through  the  big  swing  doors,  and  ap- 
proaching me,  excitedly  exclaimed : 

"  They've  both  gone  out  to  Segovia  to  see  the  Countess 
de  Chamartin.  De  Gex  sent  a  wire  early  this  morning 
and  then,  on  receipt  of  a  reply,  they  hired  a  car  and  drove 
out  to  keep  the  appointment." 

"  Chamartin  was  a  Spanish  financier.  De  Gex  is  one 
of  international  fame — a  millionaire,"  I  remarked.  "  The 
wits  of  De  Gex  are  perhaps  pitted  against  the  widow  and 
the  executors  of  the  dead  man.  Don't  you  agree  ?  " 


174        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  Entirely,"  was  Hambledon's  reply.  "  I  follow  the 
trend  of  your  thoughts,  Hugh.  De  Gex  is  the  controlling 
influence  of  great  events,  but  why  should  he  seek  to  send 
you  into  an  asylum  for  the  insane?" 

"  With  the  same  motive  that  he  endeavoured  to  send 
into  such  an  asylum  poor  Gabrielle  Tennison,"  I  said 
bitterly. 

"  In  law  we  have  an  old  adage  which  says  '  discover 
the  motive  and  you  also  discover  the  miscreant/  "  Harry 
remarked. 

I  agreed,  and,  as  much  bewildered  as  he,  exclaimed : 

"  Well,  as  far  as  we  can  discern  there  is  something 
very  underhand  in  this  meeting.  But  the  count's  widow 
is  a  cheery,  easy-going  person,  despite  her  mournful 
black,  and  perhaps,  after  all,  we  may  be  upon  a  wrong 
scent." 

"  Exactly.  De  Gex  may  be  attracted  by  her  handsome 
niece,  the  Seiiorita  Carmen  Florez — eh  ?  " 

"  He  may.  But  as  the  dead  count  was  a  jreat  financier, 
Oswald  De  Gex  may  be  working  in  the  interests  of  the 
widow — or  to  the  contrary." 

"  To  the  contrary,"  said  my  friend  without  hesitation. 

Next  morning  Hambledon  told  me  that  De  Gex  and 
Suzor  did  not  return  to  the  Ritz  until  nearly  one  o'clock. 
Apparently  they  had  dined  and  spent  the  evening  in 
Segovia.  On  that  same  day  at  noon,  my  curiosity  aroused, 
I  took  train  to  the  old-world  town  with  its  wonderful 
cathedral,  the  Alcazar,  and  the  aqueduct  built  by  Augus- 
tus, the  largest  piece  of  Roman  work  extant  in  Spain, 
rivalling  as  it  does  the  walls  of  Tarragona. 

Without  difficulty  I  discovered  the  fine  country  house 
of  the  Countess  de  Chamartin  situated  high  up  on  the 
broad  tree-lined  Paseo.  She  had  never  seen  me,  there- 
fore I  had  no  hesitation  in  idling  in  the  vicinity,  in  order 


THE  INTRUDE7R  177 

to  catch  sight  of  her  or  her  niece,  tr)On  the  table,  and  De 

ing  been  given  to  me  by  my  friend  ;s  hand." 

was  growing  dark  I  waited  in  vain,  ve  precious  pair  seems 

a  very  narrow  escape.    A  big  dusty  g. well-guarded  secret 

rapidly  up  the  hill  and  halted  close  to  w^fo?  " 

ing.     From  it  there  alighted  Gaston  Suznmiy  seems  so," 

hesitation  entered  the  big  iron  gates  and  di.the  palm  court 

the  garden.  «ie  restaurant 

Fortunately  he  was  in  such  haste,  and  so  p:^  js  a^y  at 
that  he  did  not  notice  me,  hence  I  crossed  the  i-,ere  on  a 
hid  behind  a  half-ruined  wall,  where  I  had  a  goo-^.  The 
of  the  car.  and 

About  twenty  minutes  later  he  emerged  again,   a^u_ 
with  him  was  a  young  girl  wearing  a  small  toque  and  a  , 
rich  sable  coat.    No  second  glance  was  needed  to  realize 
that  it  was  the  Senorita  Carmen  Florez,  niece  of  the 
countess.     The  elegant  Frenchman  held  the  door  open 
politely  for  her,  and  after  she  had  entered  he  got  in 
beside  her,  whereupon  the  car  turned  and  went  down 
the  hill  and  out  of  sight. 

It  occurred  to  me  that  Suzor  had  come  from  Madrid 
to  fetch  her,  and  that  surmise  later  proved  to  be  correct, 
for  on  returning  to  the  capital  at  ten  o'clock  Hambledon 
called  at  the  Hotel  de  la  Paix,  and  as  we  sat  upstairs  in 
my  bedroom  he  informed  me  that  the  young  girl  had 
arrived  by  car  at  the  Ritz  and  had  dined  with  De  Gex 
and  his  companion.  The  countess,  who  had  apparently 
been  in  Madrid  since  the  morning,  and  who  had  attended 
a  charity  matinee  at  the  Comedia,  had  arrived  at  the  Ritz 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  her  niece.  It  was  evident, 
therefore,  that  they  were  well  known  to  De  Gex,  who, 
as  I  afterwards  ascertained,  had  been  a  friend  of  the 
late  count. 

The  four  had  dined  privately  together  in  Suzor's  sit- 


174        THE  STRE>TON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  Entirely,"  was  El  ^nS  to  tne  information  given  to 
trend  of  your  though oncierge,  a  number  of  papers  had 
influence  of  great  ev"amme<^  immediately  after  the  coffee 
you  into  an  asylum 

"  With  the  sam  nat  the  production  of  the  papers  had 
into  such  an  a?_  effect  upon  the  countess,"  Hambledon 
bitterly.  gave  vent  to  a  cry  of  amazement,  and 

"  In  law  v  ./st  into  a  fit  of  tears.  At  least  that  is  what 
the  motive  «.old  the  concierge.  The  countess  is  very  well 
remarked  the  Ritz,  for  she  moves  in  the  Court  circle,  and 

I  agr  at  the  smart  functions  so  constantly  held  there." 

"  v.nd  the  niece?"  I  asked.  "She  is  certainly  both 
veurt  and  good-looking." 

'  "  I  can  discover  but  little  concerning  her,"  Harry  re- 
plied. "  She  is  not  known  at  all.  She  has  apparently 
only  gone  to  live  with  her  aunt  at  Segovia  since  the 
count's  death." 

"  I  wonder  what  was  in  the  papers  which  so  affected 
the  lady  ?  "  I  remarked.  "  De  Gex  evidently  invited  them 
to  dinner  in  order  to  make  some  disclosure,  and  to  prove 
it  by  the  production  of  documents." 

"  Evidently,"  replied  my  companion.  "  In  any  case, 
the  countess  and  her  niece  have  just  started  to  return 
for  home,  the  widow  being  very  upset  at  what  has  been 
revealed  to  her  to-night." 

"  What  can  it  have  been,  I  wonder  ?  Could  not  the 
waiter  ascertain  the  nature  of  the  disclosure?" 

"  No.  I  saw  him  myself  afterwards,  and  he  explained 
that  the  documents  in  question  were  produced  just  after 
he  had  left  the  room.  He  heard  the  countess  utter  a  cry 
of  dismay,  and  when  he  again  entered  the  room  in  pre- 
tence of  clearing  away  the  coffee-cups,  he  found  the  lady 
in  tears,  while  her  niece  declared  hotly  in  French :  '  I  do 
not  believe  it !  I  will  never  believe  it ! '  A  number  of 


THE  INTRUDER  177 

legal  documents  were  spread  out  upon  the  table,  and  De 
Gex  was  holding  one  of  them  in  his  hand." 

"  Then  the  object  of  the  visit  of  the  precious  pair  seems 
to  have  been  to  disclose  some  hitherto  well-guarded  secret 
to  the  widow  of  the  Spanish  financier — eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  my  friend  agreed.  "  It  certainly  seems  so," 
and  then  he  rose  and  left.  Downstairs  in  the  palm  court 
the  gay  crowd  was  pouring  through  to  the  restaurant 
for  supper  after  the  theatre,  for  smart  Madrid  is  gay  at 
night,  and  there  is  as  much  dancing  and  fun  there,  on  a 
smaller  scale  of  course,  as  there  is  in  the  West  End.  The 
pretty  dresses,  the  laughter,  the  sibilant  whispers,  and 
the  claw-hammer  coat  are  the  same  in  Madrid  and  Bu- 
charest as  in  London  or  Paris,  or  any  other  capital.  The 
hour  of  midnight  is  the  same  hour  of  relaxation  when 
even  judges  smile  after  their  day  upon  the  bench,  and 
the  blue-stocking  will  laugh  at  a  risky  story. 

So  after  Harry  had  gone,  refusing  to  have  supper  with 
me  lest  somebody  should  notice  us  together,  I  strolled 
about,  and  selecting  a  table  in  the  corner,  ate  my  solitary 
meal,  having  had  no  dinner  that  day. 

It  was  past  midnight  before  I  ascended  in  the  lift  to 
my  room.  I  undressed  and  when  in  bed  I  read  the 
Heraldo  until  I  suppose  I  dropped  off  to  sleep. 

I  knew  nothing  until  later  I  was  awakened  by  some 
slight  movement.  In  an  instant  I  was  seized  by  a  strange 
intuition  of  danger,  and  my  wits  became  acute.  Next 
second  I  was  on  the  alert.  There  had  been  three  lights 
burning  when  I  retired,  now  there  was  but  one.  I  had 
bolted  my  door,  yet  it  was  now  slightly  ajar! 

I  lay  and  listened.  Outside  I  heard  the  hum  of  a  car 
receding  across  the  great  sauare.  Afterwards  a  church 
bell  began  to  clang  discordantly,  as  they  all  do  in  Spain. 


178        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

The  light  was  over  the  dressing-table  in  the  corner,  and 
so  shaded  that  the  room  was  quite  dim. 

Someone  had  been  in  my  room!  I  grasped  my  auto- 
matic pistol  which  I  kept  under  the  pillow,  and  jumping 
out  of  bed  crossed  to  the  dressing-table  where  I  had  put 
my  watch  and  bank-note-case  on  taking  them  from  my 
pocket.  As  I  did  so  I  heard  the  click  of  an  electric  light 
switch,  and  next  instant  the  room  was  in  darkness. 

For  a  second  I  was  nonplussed.  I  knew,  however,  that 
I  was  not  alone  in  the  room,  so  I  dashed  across  to  the 
door,,  my  pistol  in  my  hand,  and  gaining  it  before  the 
intruder  could  escape,  turned  on  the  lights. 

Before  me  stood  revealed  a  tall,  thin-faced,  dark-haired 
man  in  his  shirt  and  trousers  who,  seeing  my  pistol,  at 
once  put  up  his  hands,  crying  in  Spanish : 

"Ah!  no — no!  It  is  a  mistake.  Holy  Madonna!  I 
have  mistaken  the  room  !  I  thought  my  friend  Pedro  was 
here !  A  thousand  apologies,  senor !  A  thousand  apolo- 
gies." 

"  But  my  door  was  bolted !  How  did  you  get  in  ?  " 
I  demanded  fiercely. 

"  No,  senor.  It  was  not  bolted.  I  have  been  taken  very 
unwell.  I  was  seeking  my  friend  Pedro,"  he  stammered, 
pale  and  frightened.  "  Come  to  my  room,  and  I  will 
3how  you  my  papers  to  prove  that  I  am  no  thief,  but  a 
well-known  advocate  of  Burgos." 

I  told  him  roughly  to  turn  his  face  to  the  wall  while  I 
went  through  my  belongings  to  satisfy  myself  that  nothing 
had  been  stolen. 

All  seemed  in  order,  and  the  fellow's  explanation 
seemed  to  be  quite  feasible — save  for  the  fact  that  I  dis- 
tinctly remembered  bolting  the  door.  Nevertheless  I 
began  to  wonder  whether  I  had  not  misjudged  him. 

"  Come  along  to  my  room,  senor,"  he  urged.    "  I  will 


THE  INTRUDER  179 

show  you  my  identity  papers.  I  have  to  offer  you  a 
thousand  apologies." 

I  followed  him  to  a  room  near  the  end  of  the  corridor, 
where  he  quickly  produced  documents  and  papers  show- 
ing that  his  name  was  Juan  Salavera,  an  advocate,  who 
lived  in  the  Calle  de  Vittoria,  in  Burgos.  He  showed  me 
the  portrait  of  his  wife  and  child  which  he  carried  in 
his  wallet  and  a  small  painted  miniature  of  his  mother, 
and  other  proofs  of  his  integrity,  including  a  case  well 
filled  with  notes. 

"  I  trust,  sefior,  that  you  will  no  longer  accuse  me  of 
being  a  thief ! "  he  said.  "  Our  encounter  would  have 
been  distinctly  amusing  had  we  not  so  frightened  each 
other  as  we  have  done." 

I  laughed,  for  I  felt  convinced  that  he  was  a  respectable 
person,  and  I  really  began  to  feel  uncomfortable. 

Indeed,  I  muttered  an  apology  for  my  rather  rough 
behaviour,  and  at  the  same  time  I  noticed  upon  the  left 
side  of  his  neck  a  deep  scar  probably  left  by  an  abscess. 

"  My  dear  senor,  it  was  quite  f  orgiveable  in  the  cir- 
cumstances," he  declared,  offering  me  a  cigarette  and  tak- 
ing one  himself.  "  I  had  supper  at  a  restaurant  after  the 
theatre  to-night  and  ate  something  which  had  disagreed 
with  me.  Half  an  hour  ago  I  felt  faint,  so  I  rose  and 
went  to  find  my  friend  Pedro  Espada,  who  came  with 
me  from  Burgos,  and  I  entered  your  room  in  mistake. 
He  must  be  in  the  room  next  yours." 

"  Shall  we  seek  him?  "  I  asked. 

"  No.  I  feel  much  better  now,  thanks,"  was  his  reply. 
"  The  fright  has  chased  away  all  f aintness !  Besides,  we 
should  have  to  go  down  to  the  office  and  ascertain  in  which 
room  he  really  is.  I  shall  be  all  right  now,"  he  assured 
me. 

He  went  on  to  say  that  he  had  come  to  Madrid  in 


180        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

connexion  with  a  large  estate  in  Granada,  to  which  a 
client  of  his  had  laid  claim. 

"  I  shall  be  here  for  a  week  at  least,  therefore  I  hope 
you  will  give  me  the  pleasure  of  spending  an  evening 
with  Pedro  and  myself.  We  will  dine  at  a  restaurant 
and  go  to  one  of  the  variety  theatres  afterwards." 

I  thanked  him,  and  laughing  at  our  encounter  we  parted 
quite  good  friends. 

On  returning  to  my  room  I  examined  the  bolt,  and 
found  that  the  screws  of  the  brass  socket  had  been  forced 
from  the  woodwork  and  it  was  lying  on  the  floor. 

That  fact  caused  suspicion  to  again  arise  in  my  mind. 
Surely  considerable  force  must  have  been  used  to  break 
away  the  socket  from  the  woodwork.  Yet  I  had  heard 
nothing ! 

However,  I  returned  to  bed,  and  leaving  the  lights  on 
I  reflected  upon  the  strange  episode.  The  fellow's  ex- 
cuse was  quite  a  legitimate  one,  yet  I  could  not  put  from 
myself  the  fact  that  the  door  had  been  forced.  By  whom, 
if  not  by  him? 

And  yet  he  was  so  cool  it  seemed  impossible  that  he 
was  a  thief  whom  I  had  caught  red-handed. 

After  half  an  hour  I  rose  again  and  thoroughly  ex- 
amined the  bolt,  when  my  suspicion  was  increased  by  a 
strange  discovery.  In  my  absence  the  socket  of  the 
bolt  had  been  removed,  the  screw  holes  enlarged  and 
filled  up  with  bread  kneaded  into  a  paste;  into  this  the 
screws  had  been  placed  so  that  although  I  had  bolted  the 
door  I  could  not  secure  it,  for  the  smallest  pressure  from 
outside  would  break  the  fastening  from  the  woodwork! 

The  dodge  was  one  often  practised  by  hotel  thieves. 
But  what  proof  had  I  that  the  lawyer  from  Burgos  had 
prepared  that  bolt?  I  had  no  means  of  knowing  when 
the  screws  had  been  rendered  unstable,  or  by  whom. 


THE  INTRUDER  181 

It  might  have  been  done  even  before  I  had  occupied  that 
room,  for  the  paste  was  hard  and  crumbling. 

Nevertheless  the  fact  remained  that  my  door  had  been 
prepared  for  a  midnight  theft,  and  I  had  found  a  stranger 
in  my  room.  So  with  a  resolve  to  make  further  inquiry 
next  morning,  I  threw  myself  down  and  slept. 

I  must  have  been  tired  and  overwrought,  for  it  was 
past  nine  o'clock  when  I  awoke  and  drew  up  the  blinds. 

Then  as  I  crossed  to  ring  the  bell  for  my  coffee  and 
hot  water  I  made  a  very  curious  discovery. 


CHAPTER  THE  SIXTEENTH 

ANOTHER   STRANGE  DISCLOSURE 

ON  the  ground,  close  to  my  bed,  were  three  brass-headed 
carpet  pins  which  had  apparently  spilt  accidentally  out 
of  a  box. 

The  sharp  point  of  each  was  upturned,  and  it  was  a 
marvel  that  during  the  night  I  had  not  stepped  upon 
them. 

How  had  they  come  there?  Was  it  by  accident  or 
design  that  they  were  beside  my  bed? 

At  first  I  wondered  whether  the  hotel  upholsterer  had 
been  at  work  on  the  previous  day  and  had  left  them  be- 
hind. He  might  have  used  them  for  pinning  down  my 
carpet. 

I  took  one  up  and  examined  it.  Next  second  I  stood 
aghast. 

The  others  I  also  took  up,  handling  them  very  gingerly, 
for  around  the  points  of  each  was  some  colourless  trans- 
parent substance  which  looked  like  vaseline.  Such  a  sub- 
stance was  not  ordinarily  upon  the  points  of  carpet  pins. 

A  horrible  thought  flashed  across  my  mind.  Therefore 
I  carefully  placed  the  three  pins  upon  the  small  glass 
tray  upon  the  dressing-table,  and  dressed  as  quickly  as 
I  could,  reflecting  the  while  upon  my  adventure  with 
the  stranger  whom  I  had  taken  to  be  a  thief. 

I  shaved,  swallowed  the  coffee  which  the  young  waiter 
brought  me,  and  at  once  descended  to  the  bureau ;  when 
in  French  I  inquired  of  the  clerk  for  Senor  Salavera. 
He  examined  the  register  and  replied  politely : 

182 


ANOTHER  STRANGE  DISCLOSURE       183 

"  We  have  no  one  of  that  name  staying  here,  senor." 

"  What  ?  "  I  cried.    "  He  was  in  Room  175  last  night !  " 

"  Number  175  was  Senor  Solier,"  replied  the  smart 
young  clerk.  "  He  paid  his  bill  and  left  just  after  seven 
o'clock  this  morning." 

"  But  I  saw  his  identification  papers — his  passport — 
letters  addressed  to  him  as  Senor  Salavera ! " 

"  That  may  be  so,  senor,"  was  the  suave  reply.  "  But 
he  registered  here  as  Senor  Solier."  And  then  he  dropped 
into  English,  which  he  spoke  very  fairly.  "  Of  course 
people  who  stay  at  hotels  do  not  always  give  their  cor- 
rect names.  They  do  not  wish  them  published  in  visitors' 
lists  in  the  newspapers.  Perhaps  it  is  only  natural,"  and 
he  smiled. 

"  Have  you  any  one  named  Pedro  Espada  in  the 
hotel  ?  "  I  inquired. 

Again  he  consulted  his  register,  but  shook  his  head. 

"  Nobody  of  that  name,"  he  replied. 

I  hesitated.    Then  I  asked: 

"  Did  the  gentleman  who  spent  the  night  in  Room 
175  depart  alone?" 

The  reception-clerk  called  the  uniformed  concierge, 
and  asked: 

"Did  Number  175  leave  alone?" 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply.  "  He  caught  the  early  express 
for  Zaragoza.  He  was  going  on  to  Barcelona,  he  told 
me.  He  went  in  the  omnibus." 

"  No  one  with  him?" 

"  Nobody." 

"  When  did  he  arrive  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  The  night  before  last.  He  was  alone — with  only  a 
handbag.  I  charged  him  with  a  deposit  for  his  room." 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  him  before  ?  "  I  asked. 

*'  Never  to  my  recollection." 


184        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  Neither  have  I,"  remarked  the  concierge.  "  He 
seemed  very  afraid  of  being  seen.  I  noticed  him  in  the 
lounge  last  night.  He  left  this  morning  quite  suddenly, 
and  without  taking  anything— even  a  cup  of  coffee." 

"  He  left  in  a  violent  hurry — eh  ?"  I  exclaimed,  well 
knowing  the  reason.  "  Well,"  I  added,  "  I  wish  to  see 
the  manager." 

"  I  will  inform  him,"  the  clerk  replied,  and  he  went 
to  the  telephone.  A  minute  later,  after  exchanging  a 
few  words  in  Spanish,  he  turned  to  me,  saying: 

"  You  will  find  the  manager's  office  on  the  first  floor. 
If  you  take  the  lift  the  man  will  direct  you,  sefior." 

A  few  minutes  later  I  was  seated  in  the  office  of  an 
elderly  bald-headed  man,  a  typical  hotelier,  courteous, 
smiling,  and  eager  to  hear  any  complaint  that  I  might 
have  to  make. 

At  once  I  told  him  of  my  curious  adventure  of  the 
previous  night,  and  of  the  sudden  flight  of  the  mysterious 
stranger  whom  I  had  discovered  in  my  room. 

"  That  is  certainly  strange,  sir,"  he  replied  in  English. 
"  His  excuse  was  a  very  ingenious  one,  to  say  the  least. 
I  think  we  ought  to  inform  the  police.  Do  you  not 
agree  ?  " 

I  told  him  of  my  discovery  of  the  carpet  pins,  and  asked 
his  advice  as  to  whom  I  might  send  them  for  chemical 
analysis. 

At  once  he  suggested  Professor  Vega,  of  the  Princesa 
Hospital  in  the  Calle  Alberto  Aguilera,  adding: 

"  The  Professor  often  dines  here.  If  you  wish,  I 
will  take  you  to  him." 

So  still  leaving  the  three  carpet  pins  upon  the  little 
glass  tray  I  wrapped  it  in  paper  and  together  we  went 
round  to  the  hospital,  where  I  was  introduced  to  a  tall, 
narrow-faced,  grey-haired  man  in  a  long  linen  coat.  To 


ANOTHER  STRANGE  DISCLOSURE       185 

him  I  explained  how  I  had  found  the  pins  on  the  carpet 
beside  my  bed,  and  asking  whether  he  would  submit  them 
to  examination. 

He  looked  at  them  critically,  first  with  the  naked  eye 
and  afterwards  by  means  of  a  large  reading-glass.  Then 
he  grunted  in  dissatisfaction  and  promised  that  next 
day,  or  the  day  after,  he  would  tell  me  the  result  of  his 
analysis. 

As  we  drove  back  to  the  hotel  the  manager  remarked : 

"  It  is  a  very  curious  affair,  sir,  to  say  the  least.  One 
does  not  scatter  carpet  pins  about  a  bedroom,  and  par- 
ticularly when  the  points  are  smeared  with  some  mys- 
terious substance.  If  they  had  been  there  before  you 
retired  to  bed  the  chambermaid  must  certainly  have 
seen  them.  She  makes  a  round  of  the  rooms  each  night 
at  ten  o'clock.  Besides,  the  facts  that  the  bolt  had  been 
tampered  with,  and  also  that  the  man  who  occupied  175 
left  so  early  and  so  hurriedly,  are  additionally  suspicious. 
Yes,"  he  added,  "I  think  we  ought  to  see  the  police." 

With  that  object  he  took  me  at  once  to  Senor  Endrade, 
the  Chief  of  Police,  a  short,  stout,  alert  little  man,  who 
heard  me  with  keen  interest  and  seemed  very  puzzled. 

''  The  intruder's  explanation  was  certainly  a  very  clever 
one,"  he  remarked  in  French.  "  It  is  a  pity  you  did 
not  demand  to  see  his  friend,  Pedro  Espada.  If  you  had, 
you  would  have  discovered  him  to  be  nonexistent." 

"  But  he  was  so  clever,"  I  answered.  "  He  told  me 
that  at  that  hour  he  could  not  discover  in  which  room 
his  friend  was  really  sleeping." 

"  But  the  night-porter  was  on  duty,"  exclaimed  the 
hotel  manager.  "  He  had  the  register  and  would  have 
been  able  at  once  to  tell  you  the  number  of  the  room." 

The  fellow  seemed  so  frank  in  revealing  to  me  his 


186         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

money,  the  portraits  of  his  family,  and  his  private  letters, 
that  I  had  taken  his  statement  as  the  truth. 

Yet,  even  now,  I  could  not  believe  that  he  had  any 
sinister  design — not  until  the  Professor  had  examined 
those  three  carpet  pins. 

In  response  to  close  questions  put  to  me  by  Senor  An- 
drade,  with  whom  was  Senor  Rivero,  the  head  of  the 
Detective  Branch,  I  gave  a  description  of  my  midnight 
visitor  as  accurately  as  I  could.  I  told  them  how  I 
had  covered  him  with  my  automatic  pistol,  and  how 
afterwards  we  had  laughed  together  at  our  mental  fear 
of  each  other. 

Senor  Rivero,  the  bald-headed,  black-bearded  chief  of 
the  branch  of  criminal  investigation,  suddenly  stopped 
me  when  I  mentioned  the  scar  upon  the  neck  of  the  advo- 
cate from  Burgos. 

"  Did  you  notice  that  there  was  any  deformity  of  his 
hands  ?  "  he  asked  quickly. 

In  an  instant  I  recollected  that  the  little  finger  of  his 
right  hand  had  been  amputated  at  the  first  joint,  and  I 
told  him  so. 

"  Ah ! "  exclaimed  the  shrewd,  dark-bearded  official. 
"  Perhaps  we  may  here  find  something  of  interest.  Just 
a  few  moments,"  and  he  rose  and  left  us. 

We  chatted  with  Senor  Andrade  for  about  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  when  the  detective  returned  with  a  bundle  of 
papers  and  four  photographs  of  a  man  taken  in  police 
style  upon  one  negative,  full  face,  three-quarter,  half  and 
profile. 

The  instant  he  placed  it  before  me,  I  exclaimed : 

"  Why,  that  is  Salavera !  " 

"  I  thought  as  much,"  remarked  the  famous  detective 
with  a  grim  smile.  "  He  is  not  Salavera,  but  Rodriquer 
Dcspujol,  one  of  the  most  dangerous  criminals  in  Spain!  " 


ANOTHER  STRANGE  DISCLOSURE       187 

"Despujol!"  cried  Senor  Andrade.  "And  he  was  in 
Madrid  last  night !  "  Then  he  added :  "  Ah !  if  we  had 
but  known." 

"  True.  But  why  was  he  in  the  English  gentleman's 
room  ?  "  queried  the  detective.  "  He  is  a  dangerous  char- 
acter, and  one  would  have  thought  that  instead  of  being 
covered  he  would,  on  being  cornered,  have  drawn  his 
knife  and  attacked  his  adversary." 

"  Despujol  is  no  amateur,"  the  Chief  of  Police  agreed. 
"  We've  wanted  him  for  the  last  five  years  for  the  as- 
sassination of  the  banker,  Monteros,  in  the  train  between 
Cordova  and  Malaga,  and  yet  he  always  evades  us,  even 
though  he  is  one  of  the  most  audacious  thieves  in  Eu- 
rope." 

"  But  his  friend  Pedro?  "  I  remarked,  startled  at  what 
I  had  now  learned. 

"He  does  not  exist,"  replied  the  detective  "You  no 
doubt  had  a  lucky  escape.  Had  you  demanded  to  see 
his  friend  he  would  no  doubt  have  killed  you.  He  is  a 
man  of  colossal  strength — a  veritable  tiger,  they  say." 

"  But  what  was  the  motive  ?  "  I  asked.  "  I  have  no 
valuables,  save  my  watch  and  tie  pin,  and  fifty  pounds 
in  English  money.  Surely  it  was  not  worth  while  to 
kill  me  for  that !  " 

"  No.  That's  just  it,"  replied  the  dark-eyed  detective, 
whose  chagrin  was  so  apparent  that  Despujol  had  slipped 
through  his  fingers.  "  The  game  was  not  worth  the  can- 
dle. So  he  returned  after  proving  to  you  his  bona  fides. 
And  these  bona  fides  he  always  carries  in  order  to  ex- 
tricate himself  from  any  ugly  situation." 

"  But  the  carpet  pins  ?  "  asked  the  hotel  manager. 

The  director  of  the  Spanish  secret  police  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  and  said: 

""Until  Professor  Vega  can  make  a  report  we  can 


188         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

do  nothing.  It  is  no  use  basing  theories  upon  mere  sur- 
mises. So  we  can  only  wait  for  Senor  Vega  to  tell  us 
what  he  discovers.  Meanwhile,  we  will  try  and  secure 
Despujol — though  I  fear  he  has  too  long  a  start  of  us." 

He  crossed  the  room  to  the  telephone,  and  a  few 
minutes  later  spoke  in  Spanish  into  the  instrument  in 
sharp,  authoritative  tones. 

I  understood  him  to  be  speaking  to  the  police  com- 
missary at  Zaragoza,  explaining  that  the  much-wanted 
criminal  Despujol  had  left  Madrid  for  that  city,  and 
giving  the  train  by  which  he  was  supposed  to  be  travelling. 
Then,  in  turn,  he  spoke  to  the  commissaries  of  Alcazar, 
Salamanca,  Valladolid  and  Arroyo,  thus  informing  the 
police  along  all  the  lines  of  railway  leading  from  the 
capital. 

It  was  evident  that  what  I  had  told  them  caused  con- 
siderable excitement.  Indeed,  after  the  head  of  the  de- 
tective department  had  concluded  giving  his  instructions 
over  the  telephone,  he  turned  to  me  and  translated  into 
French  the  black  record  of  the  stranger  whom  I  had  dis- 
covered in  my  room. 

That  he  was  a  bold  and  audacious  criminal  was  quickly 
apparent.  In  the  Sud  express  travelling  between  Madrid 
and  Paris  he  had  drugged  and  robbed  an  Italian  jeweller 
of  a  wallet  containing  a  quantity  of  diamonds,  which  he 
took  to  London  at  once  and  disposed  of  to  a  receiver 
of  stolen  property  at  Kilburn. 

Another  of  his  daring  exploits  was  the  theft  of  the 
famous  Murillo  from  the  Castle  of  Setefillas,  near  Seville. 
This  he  sold  to  a  dealer  in  Brussels,  who  afterwards 
smuggled  it  to  New  York,  where  it  was  bought  by  a 
private  collector  for  a  very  large  sum. 

Yet  again,  a  few  months  later  he  enticed  a  bank  mes- 
senger in  Barcelona  into  a  house  he  had  taken  for  the 


ANOTHER  STRANGE  DISCLOSURE       189 

purpose,  and  having  knocked  him  down  robbed  him  of 
his  wallet  containing  a  quantity  of  English  bank  notes  and 
negotiable  securities. 

Up  to  five  years  before  he  had  been  convicted  many 
times,  but  he  now  seemed  to  be  able  to  commit  robberies 
with  impunity,  and  always  get  off  free.  It  was  believed 
that  he  lived  in  secret  somewhere  abroad  and  only  came  to 
Spain  to  commit  thefts.  Probably  he  passed  to  and  fro 
to  France  by  one  of  the  obscure  mountain  tracks  through 
the  Pyrenees  known  only  to  those  who  dealt  in  contra- 
band— and  there  are  many  in  that  chain  of  mountains. 

In  any  case  the  police  were  now  hot  again  upon  his 
track. 

Suddenly  the  head  of  the  Detective  Department  had 
another  inspiration  and  rang  up  both  Jaca  and  Pamplona, 
which  are  at  the  end  of  each  railway  line  towards  the 
barrier  of  mountains  which  form  the  French  frontier. 

"  If  he  is  on  his  way  to  France  he  will  go  to  either  one 
place  or  the  other,"  he  said. 

"  But  have  they  his  photograph  ?  "  I  asked. 

"A  copy  of  this  photograph  taken  at  the  prison  of 
Barcelona,  is  in  every  detective  office  in  Spain,"  was  his 
reply.  "  Rodriquez  Despujol  is  the  most  dangerous  and 
elusive  criminal  at  large,"  he  went  on.  "  He  never  leaves 
anything  to  chance.  No  doubt  he  believed  that  you  were 
in  possession  of  something  valuable,  and  his  intention 
was  to  drug  you  and  get  it.  But  you  were  too  quick 
for  him.  My  chief  surprise  is  why,  when  he  found  him- 
self cornered  as  he  was,  that  he  did  not  draw  his  knife 
and  attack  you." 

"  But  I  had  a  pistol ! "  I  said. 

"  Despujol  does  not  fear  pistols.  Before  you  could 
pull  the  trigger  he  could  have  pounced  upon  you  like 
a  cat ! "  replied  the  police  official. 


190        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  Well,  he  certainly  entirely  misled  me,"  I  exclaimed. 
"  I  even  offered  him  an  apology  for  my  attitude  towards 
him." 

The  three  men  laughed  heartily. 

"  An  apology  to  Despujol ! "  cried  the  Chief  of  Police. 
"  How  very  amusing !  " 

"  I  consider  that  I  was  very  lucky,"  I  said.  "  He  seems 
to  be  a  most  desperate  character." 

"  He  is,"  answered  Senor  Andrade.  "  We  have  had 
inquiries  for  him  from  all  over  Europe.  During  the  war 
it  seems  that  he  served  as  a  spy  of  Germany  in  France, 
hence  the  military  authorities  there  are  very  anxious  to 
get  him." 

"  But  you  think  he  lives  in  France  and  crosses  the 
frontier  every  now  and  then." 

"  Yes.  We  received  information  to  that  effect  about 
a  year  ago.  He  probably  lives  as  a  poor,  but  perfectly 
honest  man  in  one  of  the  remote  villages  in  the  Pyrenees, 
and  is  perhaps  held  in  high  esteem  by  all  around  him. 
It  was  the  case  of  the  notorious  Maurice  Tricoche  who 
escaped  us  for  years  and  lived  near  Luchon  until  he  was 
betrayed  by  a  woman  whose  husband  he  had  maltreated. 
Perhaps  Despujol  will  also  be  betrayed.  We  hope  so !  " 

"  I  cannot  understand  why  the  fellow  dared  to  put 
foot  into  Madrid  when  he  knows  how  active  we  are  in 
search  of  him,"  remarked  Senor  Rivero,  turning  to  me. 
"  He  must  have  followed  you  with  evil  intent.  The  ex- 
planation of  mistaking  your  room  was,  of  course,  a  good 
one,  but  entirely  false." 

I  longed  to  tell  the  police  all  about  the  mystery  of 
Stretton  Street,  and  the  grave  suspicions  concerning  the 
great  international  financier  who  was  at  that  moment 
at  the  Ritz.  Yet  I  hesitated  for  two  reasons,  the  first 
being  that  I  feared  lest  my  story  should  be  disbelieved, 


ANOTHER  STRANGE  DISCLOSURE       191 

and  secondly,  because  I  had,  on  behalf  of  the  beautiful 
girl  with  whom  I  had  fallen  in  love,  set  out  to  solve  the 
enigma  by  myself,  and  bring  the  culprit  to  justice. 

"If  Despujol  is  arrested  I  will  willingly  come  forward 
and  give  evidence — that  is,  if  I  am  still  in  Spain,"  I  prom- 
ised. 

But  both  police  officials  shrugged  their  shoulders,  and 
the  detective  remarked : 

"  Despujol  is  a  will  o*  the  wisp.  There  seems  little 
hope  of  our  ever  securing  him.  Nevertheless  we  shall 
continue  to  do  our  best  to  allow  you  to  face  him  again 
one  day.  And  then,  sefior,  you  will  realize  what  a 
miraculous  escape  you  have  had ! " 


CHAPTER  THE  SEVENTEENTH 

WHAT   THE   PROFESSOR   FOUND 

WHEN  I  met  my  friend  Hambledon  in  secret  at  two 
o'clock  that  day  under  the  trees  at  a  spot  in  the  Retire, 
not  far  from  the  great  Plaza  de  la  Independencia,  we  sat 
down  and  I  described  to  him  my  strange  midnight  ad- 
venture. 

He  listened  in  amazement,  which  was  increased  when 
I  told  him  how  the  police  had  recognized  in  the  inoffen- 
sive lawyer  of  Burgos  the  notorious  bandit  Despujol,  who 
was  wanted  not  only  by  Scotland  Yard,  but  by  the  police 
of  Europe. 

"  But  those  carpet  pins  are  a  curious  feature  of  the 
affair,  Hughie,"  he  remarked. 

"  Yes.  The  police  seem  to  attach  no  importance  to 
them— but  I  do." 

"  So  do  I.  The  opinion  of  Professor  Vega  may  throw 
some  light  upon  the  affair." 

"  I  shall  call  at  the  Princesa  Hospital  to-morrow,"  I 
said,  and  then  I  inquired  the  latest  information  concern- 
ing De  Gex  and  his  French  friend. 

There  was  little  to  report.  De  Gex  had  not  been  out 
of  the  hotel,  though  Suzor  had  gone  to  purchase  some 
cigars  at  eleven  o'clock  that  morning.  While  Suzor  was 
absent  De  Gex  had,  according  to  the  friendly  concierge, 
received  a  visitor,  a  middle-aged  Spanish  woman  of  the 
middle-class.  She  had  asked  to  see  him,  and  on  her  name 
being  sent  up  the  great  one  at  once  gave  orders  for  her  to 
be  admitted. 

192 


WHAT  THE  PROFESSOR  FOUND         193 

Again  the  floor  waiter  became  inquisitive,  and  heard 
the  financier  speaking  in  English  with  his  visitor. 

"  Unfortunate !  Most  unfortunate !  "  he  heard  De  Gex 
say.  "  I  am  very  glad,  however,  that  you  have  come  to 
me  so  quickly.  You  had  a  telegram  from  Siguenza — eh  ?  " 

"  I  received  it  only  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago,  sir,"  the 
woman  had  replied  in  broken  English. 

Then  De  Gex  had  apparently  given  her  something  for 
her  services,  and  dismissed  her. 

"  A  telegram  from  Siguenza !  "  I  exclaimed,  when  my 
friend  Harry  had  told  me  this.  "  Now  Siguenza  is  on  the 
direct  line  from  here  to  the  Pyrenees  and  the  French 
frontier!  That  telegram  may  be  from  Despujol  while  in 
flight.  If  so,  the  police  have  set  a  trap  for  him  at  his 
journey's  end,  either  at  Jaca  beneath  Mont  Perdu,  or  at 
Pamplona.  I  wonder  if  he'll  be  caught?  " 

"  He  might  go  on  to  Zaragoza  and  then  turn  to  Bar- 
celona and  Marseilles,"  Hambledon  remarked. 

"  All  the  frontiers  are  watched,  so  it  seems  almost  im- 
possible for  him  to  escape.  But,"  I  added,  "  I  wonder 
if  this  information  conveyed  by  the  Spanish  woman  really 
concerned  the  fugitive  ?  " 

"  I  wonder.  A  man  like  De  Gex,  with  so  many  finan- 
cial irons  in  the  fire,  and  with  agents  in  every  European 
capital,  is  bound  to  receive  visits  from  all  sorts  and  con- 
ditions of  people  who  bring  him  information  for  profit. 
When  one  deals  in  colossal  sums  as  he  does,  one  has  to 
cultivate  people  of  all  classes,"  Hambledon  said.  "  Per- 
sonally, I  don't  think  the  woman's  information  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  your  mysterious  friend's  hurried  de- 
parture," he  added. 

"  I  do.  I'm  highly  suspicious.  There  was  some  motive 
that  he  did  not  attack  me,  as  he  could  so  easily  have  done, 
for  he's  a  most  desperate  character  and  has  committed 


194         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

several  murders  when  cornered.  His  explanation  was 
really  wonderful,  and  I  admit  that  I  was  so  completely 
deceived  that  I  actually  apologized  to  him !  But,"  I  went 
on,  "  we  may  perhaps  know  more  when  we  learn  the  truth 
from  Professor  Vega." 

Hence  at  noon  next  day  I  called  at  the  great  hospital 
in  the  Calle  Alberto  Aguilera,  and  was  ushered  into  the 
Professor's  room. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  monsieur !  "  he  exclaimed  in  French, 
knowing  that  I  spoke  Spanish  only  with  the  greatest  dif- 
ficulty. "  I  am  very  glad  you  have  called.  Those  brass- 
headed  pins  which  upholsterers  often  use,  and  which  you 
have  submitted  to  me,  are  most  interesting  from  a  toxi- 
cological  point  of  view." 

"What?"  I  gasped.     "Were  they  poisoned?" 
"Undoubtedly,"   replied   the  grave-faced  old   expert. 
"  And  by  somebody  who  is  au  courant  with  the  very 
latest  and  undetectable  poison.    I  searched  for  alkaloids 
and  glucosids,  and  used  Kippenberger's  process,  and  then 
the  tests  of  Marne,  Meyer,  Scheiblen  and  Dragendorff. 
Since  you  brought  the  three  pins  to  me  I  have  been  active 
all  the  time,  for  the  problem  much  interests  me.    At  last 
— though  I  did  not  think  that  the  substance  could  possibly 
contain  so  subtle,  deadly,  and  as  yet  unknown  poison — I 
applied  Sonnenschein's  reagent — phosphomolybdic  acid — 
and  then  I  obtained  a  result — only  an  hour  ago  indeed !  " 
"  And  what  was  the  result,  Professor?  " 
He  looked  me  straight  in  the  face,  and  replied : 
"  You  have  had  a  very  narrow  escape  from  death, 
monsieur — a  very  narrow  one.    Had  you  placed  your  foot 
upon  one  of  those  upturned  points  you  would  have  fallen 
dead  within  five  seconds !  " 
"Why?" 
"  Because  each  of  the  points  of  those  three  pins,  left 


WHAT  THE  PROFESSOR  FOUND         195 

there  as  though  by  accident  by  some  upholsterer  employed 
by  the  hotel,  was  impregnated  by  one  of  the  most  deadly 
of  all  newly-discovered  poisons.  It  is  called  by  men  of 
my  profession  orosin,  after  its  discoverer  Orosi,  and  is 
certainly  a  most  dangerous  poison  in  the  hands  of  anyone 
with  criminal  intent,  because  no  post-mortem  examina- 
tion known  to  the  medical  profession  to-day  would  be  able 
to  detect  whether  the  victim  had  been  murdered  or  died  of 
natural  causes." 

"  It  astounds  me !  "  I  gasped. 

"  No  doubt.  But  to  me,  of  course,  it  is  a  most  inter- 
esting piece  of  research,"  and  the  professor  went  on :  "  I 
have  never  met  this  substance  before,  though  I  had  heard 
whispers  of  it.  Professor  Orosi,  who  lived  in  Cologne  a 
few  years  ago  and  is  now  dead,  produced  this  poison  quite 
accidentally,  and  among  his  intimate  friends  disclosed  its 
existence,  though  he  had  no  idea  how  to  test  for  it  with 
certainty.  For  five  years  all  toxicologists  made  constant 
tests  until  apparently  quite  by  accident  Professor  Sonnen- 
schein,  of  Hanover,  discovered  the  reagent  which  would 
reveal  the  actual  glucosid,  and  determine  its  identity.  It 
gives  a  yellowish-white  precipitate,"  he  added,  holding  up 
for  my  inspection  a  small  test-tube  containing  a  liquid  of 
the  colour  he  had  indicated. 

"  Marvellous !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  I  had  no  idea  that  med- 
ical science  could  carry  inquiries  so  far.  I  know  that  in 
criminal  cases  in  London  our  pathologists,  with  their 
mirror-tests  for  arsenic,  fix  the  guilt  upon  poisoners  in  a 
manner  most  amazing,  But  I  have  never  heard  of  this 
secret  and  most  subtle  poison  which  was  placed  beside  my 
bed,  the  intention  being  for  me  to  tread  upon  the  impreg- 
nated pin." 

"  And  if  you  had  done  so  you  would  have  been  taken 


196        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

with  a  sudden  fatal  seizure,  the  cause  of  which  would 
never  have  been  detected." 
"  You  mean  I  should  have  died  of  poison?  " 

"  You  certainly  would.  No  medical  aid  would  have 
been  of  any  avail,  for  orosin  is  the  most  deadly  substance 
which  has  ever  been  discovered.  It  is  indeed  good  for 
humanity  that  it  is  known  to  only  a  few  toxicologists,  but 
that  in  itself  reveals  the  fact,  monsieur,  that  an  exceed- 
ingly clever  and  secret  attack  has  been  made  upon  your 
life.  A  single  puncture  of  the  skin  with  one  or  other  of 
those  pins  which  were  placed  so  conveniently  at  your  bed- 
side when  you  sprang  out  to  meet  the  intruder,  and  you 
would  by  this  time  have  been  buried  as  one  whose  death 
had  been  due  to  natural  causes !  " 

I  held  my  breath.  This  declaration  by  one  of  the  great- 
est professors  of  toxicology  in  Europe  staggered  me.  A 
dastardly  attempt  had  been  made  upon  me  by  one  of  the 
most  notorious  of  modern  criminals ! 

Why?  No  attempt  at  assassination  is  made  without 
some  motive,  and  the  game  must  ever  be  "  worth  the 
candle." 

The  whole  of  the  dramatic  incidents  of  the  night  flashed 
across  my  memory;  how  I  had  faced  the  fellow  in  my 
room,  challenged  him  at  the  point  of  my  pistol,  and  com- 
pelled him  to  give  me  meekly  proofs  of  his  respectability. 
Truly  it  was  all  humorous — but  only  from  Despujol's 
point  of  view. 

I  recollected  those  innocent-looking  pins  which  appar- 
ently had  been  left  so  carelessly  in  my  room.  Each  held 
for  me  a  sudden  and  suspicious  death. 

"  The  slightest  puncture  of  the  skin  would  inevitably 
prove  fatal,"  the  Professor  continued.  "  Feeling  your- 
self pricked  you  would  naturally  remove  the  pin  and  very 
quickly  afterwards  death  would  supervene.  So  prior  to 


WHAT  THE  PROFESSOR  FOUND         197 

it  you  yourself  would  no  doubt  have  removed  all  trace 
of  the  crime !  " 

"  It  is  as  well  that  such  poison  is  not  generally  known, 
or  it  would  be  used  by  many  who  wished  to  get  rid  of 
their  friends,"  I  remarked. 

The  Professor  laughed,  and  agreed,  saying: 

"There  are  several  poisons  of  the  same  type  which  are 
known  only  to  toxicologists,  and  we  are  very  careful  not 
to  allow  the  public  sufficient  knowledge  of  them.  I  must 
confess  that  I  never  dreamed  when  I  commenced  my  in- 
vestigations that  I  was  in  the  presence  of  orosin.  There 
is  sufficient  in  this  little  tube  " — and  he  held  it  to  the  light 
— "  to  kill  a  hundred  persons.  It  certainly  is  one  of  the 
most  dangerous  of  known  compounds." 

"  So  it  is  evident  that  the  man  Despujol  entered  my 
room  and  placed  the  pins  there  intending  that  I  should 
step  upon  one  or  other  of  them !  "  I  gasped. 

"  Without  doubt.  And  it  seems  little  short  of  a  marvel 
that  you  escaped,"  said  the  Professor. 

"  It  certainly  does,"  I  remarked.  "  But  I  must  tell  the 
police  of  the  fact  you  have  established.  The  affair  now 
assumes  a  new  phase.  The  man  was  not  in  my  room 
with  the  intention  of  robbery,  but  in  order  to  encompass 
my  death  by  secret  means." 

"  If  you  had  not  so  fortunately  avoided  treading  upon 
the  pins  you  certainly  would  not  be  alive  at  the  moment," 
remarked  the  Professor,  again  reflectively  examining  the 
yellow  fluid  in  the  tube.  "  What  motive  could  the  man 
have  had  in  gaining  access  to  your  room  and  placing  the 
pins  there  ?  I  suppose  he  did  not  risk  putting  them  there 
before  you  went  to  bed,  as  you  might  have  picked  one 
up  on  your  boot,  and  that  would  have  drawn  your  atten- 
tion to  them.  By  placing  them  there  after  you  were  in 


198         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

bed  he  hoped  that,  on  getting  out,  your  bare  foot  would 
come  into  contact  with  one  of  the  impregnated  points." 

"  It  was  certainly  a  most  fiendish  plot ! "  I  declared. 
"  And  I  thank  you,  Professor,  for  taking  all  this  trouble 
with  your  analysis  and  so  establishing  the  truth.  I  will 
go  to  the  police  and  inform  them." 

"  Yes.  I  wish  you  to  do  that,  for  the  fellow  is  undoubt- 
edly in  possession  of  orosin,  and  intends  to  use  it.  Per- 
haps he  has  already  killed  people  by  the  same  subtle  and 
secret  means." 

"  He  must  be  arrested  at  all  costs,"  I  said.  "  Already 
the  police  all  over  Spain  are  watching  for  him,  and  special 
surveillance  is  being  kept  along  all  the  railways  and  on 
the  frontier." 

"  Any  person  with  orosin  in  his  possession  should  be 
detained  and  examined,"  the  Professor  declared.  "  I  won- 
der where  he  obtained  it?" 

"  Who  knows  ? "  I  exclaimed,  but  I  was  reflecting 
whether,  after  all,  my  presence  in  Madrid  was  not  known 
to  De  Gex.  If  so,  was  it  possible  that  he  had  hired  the 
notorious  Despujol  to  attack  me  in  secret ! 

"  Of  course  we  know  that  there  is  a  secret  traffic  in 
poisons.  Medico-legists,  with  the  police,  have  established 
that  fact  over  and  over  again,"  said  Professor  Vega. 
"  But  the  vendors  are  very  difficult  to  trace.  One  was 
found  only  six  months  ago— a  doctor  living  in  a  suburb 
of  Copenhagen.  But  orosin  is  not  known  to  a  dozen 
people  beyond  those  who  study  toxicology.  Hence  this 
man  Despujol  must  have  been  supplied  with  it  by  some- 
one who  knew." 

The  suspicion  had  arisen  in  my  mind  that  De  Gex  and 
his  agent  Suzor  knew  that  I  was  in  Madrid  for  the  pur- 
pose of  watching  them,  and  they  had  resorted  to  a  very 
clever  and  secret  means  of  getting  rid  of  me  once  and 


WHAT  THE  PROFESSOR  FOUND         199 

for  all.  If  the  notorious  criminal  Despujol  was  in  their 
pay  he  would  no  doubt  afterwards  blackmail  them,  now 
that  the  desperate  plot  had  failed.  Again,  could  it  be 
possible  that  Moroni  had  had  any  hand  in  supplying  this 
most  effective  and  dangerous  of  all  secret  poisons  to  the 
Spanish  malefactor  who  snapped  his  defiant  fingers  under 
the  very  nose  of  the  police? 

As  I  sat  in  that  quiet  room  of  the  Professor's,  a  room 
that  smelt  strongly  of  chemicals,  though  it  was  filled 
mostly  with  books,  I  could  not  refrain  from  shuddering 
when  I  reflected  upon  the  narrow  escape  I  had  had.  Yet 
if  De  Gex  resorted  to  such  measures,  he  must  certainly 
hold  me  in  great  fear.  Besides,  if  my  life  was  threatened, 
so  also  was  that  of  my  friend  Harry  Hambledon,  who  re- 
mained so  vigilant  in  the  serene  belief  that  his  presence 
was  undetected. 

At  that  time  I  never  dreamed  that  the  great  financier 
who  controlled  the  destinies  of  certain  European  States 
never  moved  without  a  police  official  being  in  attendance, 
and  that  surveillance  was  kept  upon  him  as  though  he 
were  royalty  travelling  incognito.  De  Gex,  it  seemed, 
was  ever  afraid  that  one  of  his  enemies,  the  hundreds 
whom  he  had  ruined  by  dint  of  sharp  practice,  unscrupu- 
lous dealing,  and  flagrant  bribery,  might  seek  revenge. 

Hence,  though  neither  Hambledon  nor  myself  knew  of 
it,  both  De  Gex  and  his  toady  and  agent,  Gaston  Suzor, 
were  well  aware  of  our  presence,  and,  moreover,  were 
kept  posted  concerning  our  movements  from  day  to  day ! 

Though  we  were  in  ignorance  of  all  this,  yet  the  des- 
perate nature  of  the  plot  against  me  caused  me  to  wonder 
what  exactly  was  the  fear  in  which  De  Gex  held  me.  Of 
course  it  concerned  Gebrielle  Tennison.  But  exactly  how, 
I  failed  to  surmise. 

One  thing  was  certain,  that  the  mystery-man  of  Europe 


200        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

intended  to  rid  himself  of  me,  and  in  this  he  was  being 
aided  by  certain  of  his  friends,  chief  among  whom  were 
Suzor  and  Moroni.  That  the  assassin  Despujol  was  only 
a  paid  servant  was  quite  clear.  But  the  pay  must  have 
been  a  very  handsome  sum  to  cause  him  to  dare  to  come 
to  Madrid  so  boldly  and  run  the  risk  of  arrest. 

I  smiled  at  my  own  innocence  when  I  remembered  how 
completely  he  had  imposed  upon  me  by  showing  me  his 
papers  of  identity,  and  the  photographs  of  his  pretended 
family.  Truly  only  a  great  criminal  could  have  remained 
so  imperturbed  and  polite  to  the  man  whom  he  intended 
should  die. 

"  This  drug  orosin  is  a  very  mysterious  one,  I  sup- 
pose ?  "  I  remarked  a  few  seconds  later  as  the  Professor, 
who  had  offered  roe  a  cigar,  was  in  the  act  of  lighting  up. 

"  Yes,  A  very  weak  solution  taken  by  the  mouth  pro- 
duces extraordinary  effects  upon  the  human  brain.  The 
latter  almost  instantly  becomes  unbalanced  and  the  vic- 
tim lapses  into  an  unconscious  state  for  days,  even  for 
weeks,"  he  said.  "  Very  often  the  brain  is  quite  normal, 
save  that  a  complete  loss  of  memory  follows  the  return  to 
consciousness.  In  other  cases  orosin  has  produced  com- 
plete and  hppeless  dementia." 

"  Always  hopeless  ?  "  I  asked  eagerly,  recollecting  my 
own  case  and  that  of  Gabrielle  Tennison. 

"  Not  always  hopeless.  There  have  been  cases  that  have 
been  cured." 

"  Do  you  know  any  personally  ?  "  I  demanded  breath- 
lessly. 

"  There  are  one  or  two — very  few — on  record.  Pro- 
fessor Gourbeil,  the  well-known  alienist  of  Lyons,  has 
observed  two  patients  who  recovered.  But  the  majority 
of  cases  where  orosin  has  been  administered  were  found 
incurable.  The  mind  is  blank,  the  memory  completely  de- 


WHAT  THE  PROFESSOR  FOUND         201 

stroyed,  and  the  general  health  so  undermined  that  only 
the  strongest  persons  can  withstand  the  strain." 

At  once  I  described  Gabrielle's  symptoms  and  general 
attitude,  whereupon  the  Professor  said: 

"  What  you  tell  me  are  the  exact  symptoms  exhibited 
by  a  person  to  whom  a  small  dose  of  orosin  has  been  ad- 
ministered. In  most  cases,  however,  such  a  state  of  mind 
develops  into  actual  insanity  with  a  homicidal  tendency. 
Such  a  patient  should  be  very  carefully  watched,  for  in 
ninety  per  cent,  the  chance  of  a  cure  is,  alas!  beyond 
expectation." 


CHAPTER  THE  EIGHTEENTH 

MORE  ABOUT  THE   MYSTERY-MAN 

ONE  very  important  fact  I  had  established.  Orosin  was 
the  obscure  and  little-known  drug  that  had  been  admin- 
istered to  Gabrielle  Tennison,  as  well  as  to  myself,  by 
the  mystery-man  of  Europe  at  his  palatial  house  in  Stret- 
ton  Street.  Gabrielle  being  the  weaker,  was  still  suffer- 
ing from  its  paralysing  effects,  while  I,  the  stronger,  had 
practically  recovered. 

Yet  it  had  been  intended  by  the  daring  Despujol  that 
a  fatal  "  accident "  should  now  befall  me !  And  could 
anything  be  plainer  than  that  the  fellow  for  whom  the 
police  were  searching  so  eagerly  was  a  hireling  of  the  man 
De  Gex  who  went  in  fear  of  me? 

That  most  secret  and  most  potent  of  all  poisons  might 
be  known  to  Moroni !  Indeed,  it  apparently  was  known 
to  him,  and  the  endeavour  had  been  to  introduce  it  into 
my  system  by  means  of  an  infected  carpet  pin. 

On  leaving  Professor  Vega  I  at  once  sent  a  note  round 
to  Hambledon,  and  awaited  his  arrival. 

When  he  came  I  related  all  the  professor  had  told  me. 

"  Well,  Hugh,"  he  said,  "  we  now  know  the  truth,  and 
it  remains  for  us  to  combat  the  fiends.  If  you  are  marked 
down — no  doubt  I  am  also.  So  it  behoves  us  both  to  be 
very  wary." 

"Why  can't  we  tell  the  police  the  whole  circum- 
stances ?  "  I  suggested. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  they  wouldn't  believe  you,  and  they 

202 


MORE  ABOUT  THE  MYSTERY-MAN       203 

wouldn't  arrest  such  a  powerful  man  as  Oswald  De  Gex," 
was  his  serious  reply.  "  Money  can  buy  immunity  from 
arrest  in^every  country  in  Europe,  and  especially  De  Gex's 
money,  for  it  can  be  distributed  in  secret  by  his  agents. 
No.  If  we  are  to  be  successful  we  must  lay  our  plans  just 
as  cleverly  as  he  lays  his.  We  must  allow  him  to  believe 
that  we  are  entirely  unsuspicious  of  his  plotting.  That  is 
our  only  way." 

I  realized  that  there  was  much  truth  in  his  argument. 
It  remained  with  us  to  pretend  ignorance.  Therefore  we 
resolved  to  still  watch  and  wait. 

A  few  hours  later  I  told  Senor  Andrade,  the  Chief  of 
Police,  of  the  professor's  discovery  that  the  points  of  the 
pins  had  been  infected  with  orosin,  the  newly  discovered 
drug  which  in  small  doses  produced  loss  of  memory  and 
insanity,  and  in  larger  doses  sudden  death. 

In  reply,  he  informed  me  that  though  every  effort  had 
been  made  to  trace  the  elusive  fugitive,  all  had  been  in 
vain,  and  that  he  was  still  at  large. 

"  But  if  he  has  this  terrible  drug  in  his  possession  he 
is  more  than  ever  a  danger  to  society,"  the  Spanish  official 
went  on,  speaking  in  French.  "  I  thank  you,  m'sieur,  for 
all  the  information  you  have  given  me,  and  you  may  rely 
upon  me  to  take  every  possible  step  towards  securing  his 
arrest.  I  was  in  telegraphic  communication  with  the 
Paris  Surete  only  this  morning  concerning  him.  I  will 
wire  them  again.  They  have  been  stirred  into  activity  by 
the  message  I  sent  them  after  your  call  to  see  me." 

I  longed  again  to  be  frank  with  the  affable  Senor  An- 
drade, yet  I  saw  that  if  I  were  I  might  negative  all  chance 
of  solving  the  problem  which  concerned  the  health  and 
life  of  the  girl  whom  I  had  grown  to  love  so  fervently. 

Upon  a  sudden  impulse  I  remarked  with  affected  care- 
lessness : 


204        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  I  hear  that  our  English  financier,  Mr.  De  Gex,  is  at 
the  Ritz." 

"  Yes,"  he  replied.  "  He  is  here  under  an  assumed 
name  in  connexion  with  some  big  railway  scheme  in 
Estremadura — a  line  between  Toledo  and  Merida.  It  is 
badly  wanted,  and  has  been  talked  of  for  years.  There 
is  a  huge  stretch  of  country  south  of  the  Tagus  as  far  as 
Villa  Nueva  without  any  railway  communication.  The 
King  himself  has  been  agitating  for  the  development  of 
that  rich  agricultural  region  for  the  last  ten  years.  And 
now  it  seems  as  though  your  great  financier,  Monsieur 
De  Gex,  is  here  to  consult  with  the  Ministry  of  Communi- 
cations." 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  realizing  in  what  high  esteem  that  mys- 
tery-man of  millions  was  held. 

"  I  do  not  think  I  would  care  to  have  such  colossal 
wealth  as  his,"  remarked  the  Chief  of  Police.  "  As  soon 
as  he  arrived  from  Paris  I  had  orders  from  the  Ministry 
to  place  him  under  surveillance,  because,  it  seems,  he  goes 
in  fear  of  some  personal  attack  upon  him." 

"  By  whom  ?  "  I  asked,  instantly  interested. 

"  The  information  is  vague,"  was  his  reply.  Then, 
taking  up  a  large  yellow  paper  from  his  desk,  he  said : 
"  It  seems  that  he  has  applied  to  the  Ministry  for  per- 
sonal protection,  and  for  a  daily  report  of  anyone  who 
may  be  keeping  observation  upon  him.  There  is  a  young 
Englishman  living  at  the  Palace  Hotel  who  seems  unduly 
interested  in  the  gentleman's  movements.  We  are  watch- 
ing him." 

I  held  my  breath.  This  was  an  unexpected  revelation. 
De  Gex  was  in  fear  of  us,  and  had  resorted  to  that  ruse 
in  order  to  keep  himself  posted  upon  Hambledon's  move- 
ments !  Truly  the  situation  was  daily  growing  more  com- 
plicated ! 


MORE  ABOUT  THE  MYSTERY-MAN        205 

"  Surely  such  a  well-known  man  as  Mr.  De  Gex — a 
man  who  is  noted  not  only  for  his  immense  wealth,  but 
for  his  generous  contributions  to  charity— could  not  have 
enemies  ?  "  I  remarked. 

"  Everyone  has  enemies,  my  dear  m'sieur,"  was  the 
police  official's  suave  reply.  "  Senor  De  Gex  was  here 
in  Madrid  a  year  ago  when  he  made  a  similar  application 
to  the  Ministry  for  personal  surveillance.  He  was  here 
in  connexion  with  the  foundation  of  the  new  Madrid  and 
Southern  Spain  Banking  Corporation,  which  is  guaran- 
teed by  a  group  of  French  and  Dutch  financiers  of  whom 
Senor  De  Gex  is  the  head." 

He  paused,  and  then  continued : 

"  He  seems  highly  strung  and  nervous.  All  men  who 
are  in  the  public  eye  seem  to  be  the  same.  Well-known 
foreigners  visiting  Madrid  often  apply  for  surveillance, 
yet  there  is  certainly  no  need  of  it.  And  I  confess  to  you 
that  my  staff  is,  after  all,  unduly  worked." 

"  I  can  quite  imagine  that,"  I  said.  "  But  is  a  strict 
watch  kept  upon  Mr.  De  Gex?  " 

"  Yes,  and  upon  his  agent,  Monsieur  Suzor,  also." 

"  Has  Monsieur  Suzor  been  in  Madrid  before?  " 

"  He  was  here  two  years  ago  when  Senor  De  Gex  had 
some  big  financial  deal  with  the  Count  Chamartin,  who 
was  head  of  the  Miramar  Shipping  Company  of  Barce- 
lona. They  say  he  bought  the  whole  fleet  of  steamers 
from  Count  Chamartin." 

"  Was  Count  Chamartin  wealthy  ?  " 

"  Yes.  A  millionaire,  without  a  doubt.  But  it  is  said 
that  shortly  before  his  death  he  quarrelled  with  his  wife. 
Why,  nobody  knows.  She  lives  at  Segovia,  and  their 
house  here  in  the  capital  has  just  been  sold." 

"  Was  any  attempt  made  upon  Mr.  De  Gex  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Well,  a  mysterious  young  Frenchman  called  one  night 


206         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

at  the  Ritz  and  demanded  to  see  him.  He  was  very  ex- 
cited, and  when  he  was  refused  admission  upstairs,  he 
flourished  a  revolver.  My  agent  on  duty  arrested  the 
stranger,  who  was,  after  examination,  deported.  For 
that  Senor  De  Gex  sent  me  a  letter  of  thanks,  and  the 
scarf-pin  which  you  see  I  wear." 

The  pin  he  indicated  consisted  of  a  single  black  pearl 
with  the  base  surrounded  by  diamonds,  an  expensive  piece 
of  jewellery.  That,  in  itself,  was  sufficient  to  show  that 
Oswald  De  Gex  was  a  past-master  in  the  art  of  bribery, 
and  that  he  had  established  in  the  minds  of  the  authori- 
ties of  the  Spanish  capital  that  when  he  came  there  he 
came  in  the  interests  of  the  Government,  and  hence  he 
could  do  no  wrong. 

Ah !  How  I  longed  to  be  able  to  tell  my  story  to  that 
charming  official.  But  I  saw  that  if  I  did  so  he  would 
not  only  disbelieve  me,  but  put  me  down  as  an  exaggerat- 
ing fool.  So  I  held  my  tongue. 

I  further  questioned  him  concerning  De  Gex  and  his 
friend  Suzor. 

"  Monsieur  Suzor  has  been  in  Madrid  before,"  he  said. 
"He  is  agent  of  Senor  De  Gex.  But  how  wealthy  the 
latter  must  be!  During  the  war  he  made  a  big  loan  to 
our  Government.  The  real  extent  of  it  is  not  known,  but 
some  say  that  he  can  pull  the  strings  of  the  Cabinet  in 
any  way  he  wishes^hough  the  King  disapproved  of  the 
whole  transaction.  At  least  that  is  the  rumour.  Yet, 
after  all,  Senor  De  Gex  is  a  true  friend  of  Spain,  even 
though  he,  like  all  financiers,  obtains  huge  percentages 
upon  his  loans." 

"  True,"  I  laughed.  "  Men  of  wealth  are  seldom  philan- 
thropists. One  finds  more  true  philanthropy  among  the 
poor,  and  in  the  artistic  circles  of  lower  Bohemia,  than 
in  the  circles  of  the  ultra-rich.  Philanthropy  is  not  writ- 


MORE  ABOUT  THE  MYSTERY-MAN       207 

ten  in  the  dictionary  of  the  war-rich — those  blatant  profit- 
eers with  their  motors  and  their  places  in  the  country, 
who,  having  fattened  upon  the  lives  of  the  brave  fellows 
who  fought  and  died  to  save  Europe  from  the  unholy 
Hun,  are  now  enjoying  their  lives,  while  the  widows  and 
orphans  of  heroes  starve." 

"  Ah,  M'sieur  Garfield,  with  that  I  entirely  agree," 
sighed  the  astute  man  seated  at  his  writing-table  with  the 
three  telephones  at  his  elbow.  "  In  my  official  career  as 
head  of  the  police  department  of  Madrid,  I  have  watched 
recent  events,  and  I  have  seen  how  men  who  were  little 
removed  from  the  category  of  the  worst  criminals,  have 
suddenly  jumped  into  wealth,  with  its  consequent  notori- 
ety, and  the  power  which  is  inseparable  from  the  possessor 
of  money." 

"  The  international  financier  Oswald  De  Gex  is  one  of 
those,"  I  said.  "  You  cannot  close  your  eyes  to  that 
fact!" 

"  You  appear  to  entertain  some  antipathy  towards  him," 
he  remarked,  a  little  surprised  it  seemed. 

"  No,  not  at  all,"-  I  assured  him,  smiling.  "  I  only 
speak  broadly.  All  these  great  financiers  fatten  upon  the 
ruin  of  honest  folk." 

"  I  hardly  think  that  such  is  the  case  with  Senor  De 
Gex,"  he  remarked.  "  But  you  are  English,  and  you 
probably  know  more  than  myself  concerning  his  career." 

"  Nobody  in  England  knows  much  about  him,"  was  my 
reply.  "We  only  know  that  he  is  immensely  wealthy,  and 
that  his  riches  are  daily  increased  by  the  various  ventures 
which  he  finances." 

"  He  is  a  great  support  to  our  Ministry  of  Finance," 
declared  the  Chief  of  Police.  "  It  was  Count  Chamartin 
who  first  interested  him  in  Spain,  I  believe.  In  any  case, 
they  combined  to  finance  a  number  of  industrial  enter- 


208        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

prises,  including  the  great  Guadajoz  Copper  Mine  which 
must,  in  itself,  have  brought  them  both  a  fortune." 

"  You  said  that  the  count  is  dead,"  I  remarked. 

"  Yes.  He  died  quite  suddenly  last  year.  He  was  one 
of  the  most  popular  men  at  Court,  and  his  tragic  death 
caused  a  great  sensation.  He  was  taken  ill  in  the  Sud 
Express  while  travelling  from  Madrid  to  keep  an  appoint- 
ment with  Senor  De  Gex  in  Paris,  and  though  he  was 
taken  from  the  train  on  its  arrival  at  San  Sebastian  and 
conveyed  to  the  hospital,  he  died  a  few  moments  after 
reaching  there.  He  had  a  weak  heart,  and  had  consulted 
two  doctors  only  a  month  previously.  They  had  ordered 
him  a  complete  rest  and  change,  but,  contrary  to  their  ad- 
vice, he  continued  attending  to  his  affairs — with  fatal 
result." 

"  And  the  countess  ?  " 

"  Ah !  Poor  lady,  she  was  beside  herself  with  grief. 
She  was  his  second  wife.  His  first  was  the  daughter  of 
an  Englishman  who  lived  in  Madrid.  The  present  count- 
ess is  the  daughter  of  the  Marquis  Avellanosa  of  Algeci- 
ras,  and  they  were  a  most  devoted  pair.  She  now  lives  in 
Segovia  in  comparative  seclusion.  The  count's  untimely 
end  was  a  great  loss  to  Spain." 

It  was  news  to  me  that  Oswald  De  Gex  was  in  Madrid 
with  his  agent  Suzor  in  connexion  with  the  new  railway 
scheme.  Indeed,  what  I  had  just  been  told  was  all  amaz- 
ing, and  showed  De  Gex  to  be  a  man  of  outstanding 
genius.  The  mystery  man  of  Europe  took  good  care  to 
inform  himself  of  any  person  who  watched  his  move- 
ments, or  sought  to  inquire  into  his  business.  It  certainly 
was  a  master-stroke  to  pretend  fear  of  assassination,  and 
compel  the  police  to  act  as  his  personal  guard.  By  that 
means  he  had  learnt  that  Hambledon  and  myself  were  in 
Madrid  on  purpose  to  discover  what  we  could,  hence  he 


MORE  ABOUT  THE  MYSTERY-MAN        209 

had  hired  the  assassin  Despujol  to  set  that  dastardly  trap 
for  me. 

Again  it  was  upon  the  tip  of  my  tongue  to  reveal  the 
suspicions  I  had  of  the  great  financier,  but  I  refrained, 
because  I  could  see  that  my  companion  held  De  Gex  in 
high  esteem  as  a  friend  and  financial  mainstay  of  his 
country. 

A  few  moments  later  I  reverted  to  the  possibility  of  the 
arrest  of  Despujol,  for  if  arrested  he  might  betray  De 
Gex  as  the  person  who  had  paid  him  to  place  those  in- 
fected pins  in  my  room.  In  such  case  my  story  would  be 
heard  and  investigated. 

But  the  Chief  of  Police  shook  his  head  dubiously. 

"  I  fear  that  he  has  again  gone  into  safe  hiding — up  in 
the  mountains  somewhere,  without  a  doubt,"  he  replied. 
"  It  was  an  act  of  considerable  daring  to  come  boldly  to 
Madrid  and  stay  at  your  hotel  when  he  knows  full  well 
the  hue-and-cry  for  him  is  raised  everywhere,  and  that 
there  is  actually  ten  thousand  pesetas  offered  as  reward 
for  his  capture." 

"  Someone  may  betray  him,"  I  suggested  with  a  smile. 

"  Yes.  We  hope  so.  One  of  his  friends,  male  or  fe- 
male, will  no  doubt  do  so  and  come  one  day  to  us  for  the 
reward.  Not  till  then  shall  we  know  the  truth  of  that 
strange  attempt  upon  your  life.  The  motive  could  not 
have  been  robbery,  as  you  had  nothing  worth  taking  save 
your  watch.  If  he  had  been  found  in  De  Gex's  room  at 
the  Ritz  one  could  have  understood  it." 

I  smiled.  The  Chief  of  Police  never  suspected  the 
true  facts  of  the  case,  facts  within  my  own  knowledge, 
which  were  of  such  an  amazing  and  startling  character 
that  I  hesitated  to  relate  them. 

When  I  left  my  friend  I  again  sought  Hambledon  and 
told  him  all  I  had  learnt. 


210         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR. 

"  H'm !  "  he  grunted.  "  Very  wily  of  De  Gex  to  get 
the  police  to  keep  an  eye  upon  me.  If  I'm  not  careful  I 
shall  suddenly  find  myself  under  arrest  as  a  suspicious 
person  who  is  in  the  habit  of  loitering  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  great  financier." 

"  Yes,"  I  agreed.  "  This  seems  to  put  an  end  to  our 
present  activity — does  it  not  ?  " 

"  Well,  he  apparently  knows  that  we  are  watching," 
Hambledon  said.  "  What  a  pity  we  cannot  tell  the  police 
all  we  know." 

"If  we  did  we  should  not  be  believed,  and,  moreover, 
they  wouldn't  hear  a  word  against  the  great  man  who  is 
such  a  friend  to  Spain.  Money  buys  reputation,  remem- 
ber. Nobody  knows  that  better  than  De  Gex." 

Hambledon  was  standing  at  my  bedroom  window  look- 
ing thoughtfully  down  upon  the  Puerta  del  Sol  with  its 
crowd  of  hurrying  foot-passengers. 

"  It  seems  a  miserable  ending  to  all  our  careful  surveil- 
lance upon  Suzor — doesn't  it  ?  "  he  grumbled. 

"  True,  it  does.  But  now  that  the  pair  are  on  the 
alert  I  cannot  see  that  anything  can  be  gained  by  remain- 
ing in  Madrid  longer,"  I  pointed  out. 

"  Then  you  intend  to  give  up  the  quest  for  the  truth  ?  " 

"  Not  by  any  means,"  I  replied  quickly.  "  I  intend,  at 
all  hazards,  and  at  all  costs,  to  still  fathom  the  mystery. 
What  we  have  learned  since  we  came  to  Spain  puts  quite 
a  different  complexion  upon  matters.  We  are  now  in  pos- 
session of  certain  facts  concerning  De  Gex — facts  of 
which  we  had  no  suspicion.  We  had  never  dreamed  that 
to  further  his  ends  he  did  not  hesitate  to  employ  a  notori- 
ous criminal  to  commit  murder  with  malice  aforethought. 
Neither  did  we  know  anything  of  his  financial  dealings 
with  the  Spanish  Ministry  of  Finance,  or  his  partnership 
with  the  Conde  de  Chamartin,  or  that  the  drug  he  used 


MORE  ABOUT  THE  MYSTERY-MAN        211 

upon  poor  Gabrielle  and  myself  was  the  obscure  but 
most  deadly  and  dangerous  orosin.  All  these  are  points 
which  may  in  the  near  future  be  of  greatest  advantage  to 
us.  Therefore  we  must  not  despair.  Let  us  take  courage 
and  continue  to  probe  the  mystery — for  the  sake  of  poor 
Gabrielle  Tennison,"  I  urged.  "Let  us  act  as  quietly  and 
discreetly  as  our  enemy  is  acting,  and  we  may  yet  attain 
success ! " 


CHAPTER  THE  NINETEENTH 

THE  TRACK  OF  DESPUJOL 

HAVING  decided  to  still  remain  in  Madrid  I  deemed  it 
advisable  to  engage  the  services  of  a  private  inquiry  agent 
to  watch  the  movements  of  De  Gex  and  Suzor,  who  still 
remained  at  the  Ritz.  The  mystery-man,  living  under 
an  assumed  name,  never  went  out  in  the  daytime,  though 
Suzor  often  went  forth,  paying  visits  to  certain  banks 
and  commercial  offices  in  connexion  with  the  proposed 
new  railway. 

The  man  we  engaged  was  an  elderly  ex-detective  of  the 
Seville  police,  named  Pardo,  who  very  soon  discovered 
the  identity  of  the  secret  agent  employed  to  keep  surveil- 
lance upon  De  Gex  on  behalf  of  the  police  so  that  no 
harm  should  befall  him. 

In  consequence,  I  took  Pardo  into  my  confidence,  and 
calling  him  to  my  hotel,  explained  that  I  desired  to  keep 
secret  watch  upon  the  Frenchman-  Suzor,  without  the 
knowledge  of  the  detective  watching  De  Gex. 

"  I  particularly  desire  to  know  the  addresses  of  any 
telegram  which  Suzor  may  send.  Probably  he  may  send 
some  message  to  Italy.  If  so,  please  discover  the  address 
and  the  text  of  the  message." 

I  believed  that  De  Gex  might  communicate  with  Mo- 
roni, now  that  the  plot  of  Despujol  had  failed. 

"  I  will  watch,  senor,"  was  the  grey-haired  Spaniard's 
reply.  "  If  Senor  Suzor  sends  any  telegram  I  shall  prob- 
ably obtain  a  copy  of  it.  They  know  me  well  at  the  chief 
telegraph  office.  Senor  Suzor  appears  to  be  transacting  a 

212 


THE  TRACK  OF  DESPUJOL  213 

considerable  amount  of  business  in  Madrid — a  scheme  for 
a  new  railway,  I  understand." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  All  I  want  you  to  do  is  to  find  out  who 
risks  Mr.  De  Gex,  and  whether  any  telegrams  are  sent 
by  either  him  or  Mr.  Suzor." 

"  I  quite  understand,  senor,"  was  the  detective's  reply 
as  he  rose,  and  a  few  minutes  later  withdrew. 

Late  in  the  evening  two  days  afterwards  I  returned  to 
the  hotel  to  find  the  man  Pardo  awaiting  me.  After  I 
had  taken  him  up  to  my  room  and  closed  the  door,  he 
drew  a  piece  of  paper  from  his  pocket,  saying  in  French : 

"  Senor  Suzor  sent  a  telegram  at  half-past  eight  this 
evening  of  which  this  is  a  copy." 

The  message  he  handed  me  was  in  a  pencilled  scribble, 
and  was  in  English  as  follows: 

"  Charles  Rabel,  Rue  de  Lalande  163,  Montauban. — 
"  Important  that  I  should  see  you.     Meet  me  at 
Hotel  Luxembourg,  Nimes,  without  fail,  next  Mon- 
day at  noon. — O." 

The  initial  "  O  "  stood  for  Oswald— Oswald  De  Gex ! 
So  the  mystery-man  of  Europe  contemplated  leaving  Ma- 
drid! 

I  thanked  the  man  Pardo,  who  said: 

"  Senor  Suzor  did  not  dispatch  the  telegram  from  the 
chief  office  in  the  Calle  del  Correo,  but  from  the  branch 
office  in  the  Plaza  del  Progreso.  He  apparently  wished 
to  send  it  in  secret." 

"  I  wonder  why  ?  "  I  asked. 

The  Spaniard  raised  his  shoulders. 

The  address  conveyed  nothing  to  me.  But  the  message 
was  proof  that  De  Gex  intended  to  leave  Spain,  and  fur- 
ther, it  was  a  source  of  satisfaction  to  know  his  destina- 
tion in  case  he  slipped  away  suddenly. 


214        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

After  Pardo  had  gone  I  sat  and  pondered.  It  struck 
me  as  very  curious  that  Suzor  should  have  gone  to  a  dis- 
tant telegraph  office  in  order  to  send  the  message.  It 
seemed  that  he  feared  to  be  recognized  by  the  counter- 
clerk  at  the  chief  telegraph  office.  For  over  an  hour  I 
smoked  reflectively.  I  confess  that  a  curious  ill-defined 
suspicion  had  arisen  in  my  mind,  a  suspicion  that  became 
so  strong  that  just  about  eleven  o'clock  I  entered  the  Jefa- 
tura  Superior  de  Policia  in  the  Calle  de  la  Princesa,  and 
again  inquired  for  Seiior  Andrade. 

Fortunately  he  had  been  detained  in  his  office,  and  I 
was  shown  into  his  presence. 

He  seemed  surprised  to  see  me,  but  at  once  he  became 
interested  when  I  said: 

"  I  have  a  distinct  suspicion  that  I  know  the  where- 
abouts of  Despujol." 

"Have  you?"  he  exclaimed  quickly.  "What  causes 
you  to  suspect  ?  " 

"  A  man  whom  I  believe  to  be  an  acquaintance  of  his 
has  to-day  sent  an  urgent  telegram  to  Charles  Rabel,  Rue 
de  Lalande,  163,  in  Montauban,  in  France,  making  an  ap- 
pointment to  meet  him  at  the  Hotel  Luxembourg  at  Nimes 
next  Monday  at  noon." 

"  Who  is  his  friend  ?  "  he  asked  eagerly. 

"  I  regret,  Senor  Andrade,  that  I  am  not  in  a  position 
to  answer  that  question.  The  whole  matter  is  only  one 
of  suspicion — very  strong  suspicion." 

The  Chief  of  Police  looked  very  straight  at  me. 

"  Ah !  Then  you  are  in  possession  of  certain  secret 
knowledge  concerning  the  man  who  made  such  a  dastardly 
attempt  upon  your  life !  "  he  remarked.  "  And  you  sus- 
pect this  Charles  Rabel  at  Montauban  to  be  the  fugitive 
—eh?" 

"  Exactly,"  I  replied. 


THE  TRACK  OF  DESPUJOL  215 

He  asked  me  to  repeat  the  address,  which  he  scribbled 
down,  and  then  looking  up,  said  : 

"  Personally,  Senor  Garfield,  I  think  your  suspicions 
are  unfounded.  Despujol,  if  he  is  ever  found,  will  be 
discovered  in  hiding  somewhere  in  the  mountains  of  the 
north." 

"  But  why  not  in  Montauban  ?  "  I  asked.  "  He  is  ap- 
parently a  well-educated  man,  judging  from  his  conver- 
sation with  me.  He  speaks  French  well,  and  perhaps 
passes  as  a  French  subject." 

"  He  could  pass  for  a  Spaniard,  an  Italian,  a  Greek,  or 
a  Frenchman,"  Andrade  remarked.  "  And  as  forged  pass- 
ports are  so  cheap  nowadays,  and  almost  impossible  to 
detect,  the  means  of  escape  of  such  a  daring  criminal  are 
both  numerous  and  easy.  "  But,"  he  added,  "  I  am  in- 
terested in  this  person  whom  you  believe  to  be  a  friend  of 
the  fugitive.  Cannot  you  tell  me  who  he  is?  " 

I  shook  my  head,  and  smiling  replied : 

"  I  have  only  come  here  to  tell  you  of  a  very  distinct 
suspicion  I  entertain  that  Despujol  is  at  Montauban." 

"  Then  his  friend  is  your  enemy — eh?"  he  suggested, 
his  dark,  penetrating  eyes  fixed  upon  mine.  "  You  know 
the  motive  of  that  trap  which  Despujol  set  for  you,  and 
yet  you  will  not  reveal  it  to  me ! " 

Again  I  shook  my  head  and  smiled. 

"  It  would  make  my  task  much  easier,"  he  remarked. 

"  I  am  aware  of  that.  But  at  present  mine  is  only 
a  suspicion.  I  have  no  actual  knowledge  that  Charles 
Rabel  is  the  man  you  are  so  desirous  of  arresting." 

"  And  you  really  refuse  to  tell  me  who  sent  this  mes- 
sage ?  "  he  asked  in  a  tone  of  disappointment. 

"  It  was  sent  in  secret,"  I  answered.  "  Indeed,  it  was 
that  fact  which  caused  me  to  suspect.  You  can,  of 
course,  obtain  the  original  of  the  telegram  by  applying 


216         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

for  it  from  the  authorities.    But  it  is  only  signed  by  an 
initial." 

"  How  did  you  obtain  knowledge  of  it?  " 

"  Again  I  have  no  intention  of  disclosing  the  source  of 
my  information,  Sefior  Andrade,"  I  replied  as  politely  as 
T  could,  "  I  am,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  here  in  Madrid  at- 
tempting to  solve  a  very  remarkable  mystery  which  oc- 
curred in  London  a  few  months  ago." 

"  This  is  most  interesting !  You  never  told  me  that 
before ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  confess  I  wondered  with 
what  motive  you  and  your  friend  Sefior  Hambledon,  liv- 
ing at  separate  hotels,  had  in  remaining  here.  It  was 
regarded  as  suspicious  by  the  detective  force  that  being 
such  intimate  friends  you  lived  at  separate  hotels,  and 
met  only  in  secret.  Reports  have  reached  me  of  your 
movements,  and  of  your  meetings,"  he  laughed.  "  More 
than  once  you  have  been  regarded  as  suspected  persons," 
he  added. 

"  Well,  I  hope  you  do  not  regard  me  as  a  suspected 
person  any  longer,  Sefior  Andrade !  "  I  exclaimed  with 
a  smile. 

"  No,  no,"  he  laughed.  "  But  I  confess  you  are  some- 
thing of  a  mystery.  Why  should  the  notorious  Despujol 
dare  to  put  his  foot  into  Madrid  and  lay  that  deadly  plot 
to  kill  you  ?  You  know  the  motive,  and  yet  you  will  not 
disclose  it  to  me." 

"  Not  at  present,"  I  said.  "  If  it  is  found  that  Charles 
Rabel  is  really  Despujol,  then  I  will  come  forward  and 
state  all  that  I  know." 

"You  promise  that?" 

"  I  do." 

"  Very  well — then  I  will  give  orders  to  have  your  sus- 
picions investigated,"  replied  the  patient,  urbane  official. 
"  A  detective  shall  leave  by  the  next  train  for  Montauban 


THE  TRACK  OF  DESPUJOL  217 

with  a  request  to  the  Prefect  of  Police  of  the  Depart- 
ment of  Tarn-et-Garonne  for  the  arrest  of  the  individual 
in  question,  if  he  should  be  identified." 

"  Then  I  will  accompany  him,"  I  said. 

"  Excellent,"  he  exclaimed.  "  It  would  be  well  if  Senor 
Rivero,  the  head  of  the  Detective  Department,  whom  you 
have  met,  went  in  person  to  France.  I  will  ring  him  up 
at  his  house." 

He  took  up  the  telephone  and  a  few  minutes  later  spoke 
rapidly  in  Spanish  to  the  chief  detective  of  Spain. 

Presently  after  a  rapid  conversation  he  put  down  the 
receiver,  and  said: 

"  Senor  Rivero  will  meet  you  at  the  Delicias  Station  at 
two  o'clock  to-morrow  morning.  The  express  for  Barce- 
lona leaves  at  two-fifteen.  From  Barcelona  you  can  get 
direct  to  Nimes,  and  on  to  Montauban.  And,"  he  added, 
"  I  only  hope  you  will  be  successful  in  arresting  the  noto- 
rious Despujol." 

I  thanked  him,  and  suggested  that  if  we  should  be  for- 
tunate enough  to  identify  him,  we  should  watch  for  the 
keeping  of  the  appointment  at  the  Hotel  Luxembourg  at 
Nimes  on  the  following  Monday. 

"With  whom  is  he  keeping  the  appointment?"  asked 
Senor  Andrade. 

"  That  I  will  disclose  later,"  was  my  reply.  "  I  know 
that  the  appointment  has  been  fixed,  and  if  we  watch,  we 
shall,  I  feel  assured,  gain  some  knowledge  of  consider- 
able interest." 

"  As  you  wish,"  replied  the  Chief  of  Police,  who  now 
seemed  convinced  by  my  manner  that  I  was  in  possession 
of  certain  actual  facts.  "You  will  meet  Senor  Rivero — 
eh?" 

"  Certainly,"  I  said. 

"  Then  I  wish  the  pair  of  you  the  good  fortune  of  ar- 


218         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

resting  the  assassin  Despujol,"  he  said  as  we  shook  hands 
and  parted. 

I  drove  at  once  to  Hambledon's  hotel,  where  I  found 
that  he  had  just  retired  to  bed.  As  he  stood  in  his  pyja- 
mas, surprised  at  my  unexpected  visit  at  that  hour,  I 
told  him  what  I  had  arranged. 

"  Then  I  will  remain  here  and  watch  De  Gex's  depar- 
ture," he  said. 

"  Yes.  But  be  very  careful  of  yourself,"  I  urged. 
"  Keep  your  revolver  handy,  for  you  never  know  when 
an  attack  may  be  made  upon  you.  These  fellows,  though 
great  men  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  employ  desperate 
characters  to  do  their  dirty  work." 

"  I'm  quite  alive  to  that  fact,  Hugh,"  replied  my  friend. 
"  But  we  won't  give  up  till  we  punish  those  responsible 
for  poor  Miss  Tennison's  state — will  we  ?  " 

"  No,  we  won't,"  I  declared  determinedly.  "  Of  course 
we  may  be  on  a  wrong  scent,  but  something  seems  to  tell 
me  that  we  are  pretty  hot  on  the  trail.  The  assassin  Des- 
pujol would  never  have  been  employed  by  them  if  they 
did  not  hold  us  in  dread." 

"  Your  journey  to  Montauban  will  prove  whether  you 
are  right,  Hugh,"  he  said,  and  then,  after  arranging  that 
he  should  follow  Suzor  should  De  Gex  leave  without  him, 
and  that  he  should  at  once  wire  me  word  to  the  Poste 
Restante  at  Nimes,  I  left,  and  returning  to  the  hotel 
packed  my  suit-case  and  later  met  the  bald-headed  but 
famous  detective. 

The  latter  proved  an  amusing  companion  who,  during 
the  long  night  journey  to  the  Mediterranean,  recounted  to 
me  many  of  his  interesting  experiences.  His  French  was 
better  than  his  English,  so  we  conversed  in  the  former 
tongue. 


THE  TRACK  OF  DESPUJOL  219 

There  was  no  sleeping  carriage  upon  the  train,  there- 
fore, after  my  companion  had  spoken  to  the  conductor,  we 
made  ourselves  as  comfortable  as  we  could  in  the  first- 
class  compartment  which  had  been  reserved  for  us.  At 
half-past  three  in  the  morning,  with  true  Spanish  fore- 
thought, he  produced  some  sandwiches,  fresh  fruit,  and 
a  bottle  of  excellent  wine,  upon  wrhich  we  made  a  hearty 
meal,  after  which  we  dozed  in  our  corners  till  dawn. 

Throughout  the  day  my  companion,  who  was  quite  as 
eager  as  myself  to  arrest  the  notorious  Despujol,  chatted 
in  French  as  we  went  slowly  down  the  fertile  valley  of 
the  Ebro  and  suddenly  out  to  where  on  our  right  lay  the 
broad  blue  sea.  Not  until  late  afternoon  did  we  arrive 
at  Barcelona,  and  having  two  hours  to  wait  we  went 
along  the  Paseo  de  San  Juan  to  the  Francia  Station,  and 
having  deposited  our  bags  there,  strolled  along  to  the 
Plaza  de  Cataluna,  where,  at  the  gay  Maison  Doree,  we 
had  coffee  and  cigarettes,  while  my  companion  read  the 
Diario  and  I  watched  the  picturesque  crowd  about  us. 
Rivero  knew  Barcelona  well,  so  after  we  had  finished  our 
cigarettes  we  took  a  taxi  to  the  Central  Police  Office, 
where  we  had  a  chat  with  the  chief  of  the  Detective  De- 
partment, a  short  stout  little  man  with  a  round  boyish 
face  and  a  black  moustache.  After  that  we  took  another 
taxi  along  to  the  toy-fair  in  the  Plaza,  de  la  Constitucion, 
it  being  the  Feast  of  St.  George,  the  patron  saint  of  Cata- 
lonia, which  accounted  for  the  bustle  and  gaiety  of  the 
city. 

Then,  after  an  interesting  half-hour,  we  returned  to 
the  station  and  set  out  upon  our  slow  eight-hour  journey 
through  the  rich  wine  lands  of  Catalonia,  with  their  quaint 
mediaeval  villages  and  towns,  with  occasional  glimpses  of 
sapphire  sea,  and  passing  over  many  ravines  and  gullies 


220        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

we  at  last,  long  after  nightfall,  entered  a  long  tunnel  at 
the  end  of  which  was  the  station  of  Port-Bou,  the  French 
frontier. 

The  usual  prying  douaniers  were  quickly  at  work,  and 
after  some  coffee  at  the  Restaurant  Baque,  which  is  so 
well  known  to  travellers  to  Southern  Spain,  we  re-entered 
the  train  for  Narbonne,  where  in  the  morning  we  changed 
and  travelled  to  Montauban,  by  way  of  Carcassonne  and 
Toulouse. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when,  on  arrival  at  our  des- 
tination, we  took  rooms  at  the  Hotel  du  Midi  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  Tarn  to  the  prosperous  pleasant  little 
French  town,  once  a  headquarter  of  the  Inquisition,  and 
even  now  containing  in  its  Museum  the  executioner's  axe 
and  many  instruments  of  torture.  After  a  wash  and  a 
meal,  for  we  were  both  very  hungry,  we  set  out  to  find 
Monsieur  Charles  Rabel,  whose  address  was  Rue  de  La- 
lande,  number  163. 

We  crossed  the  wonderful  old  brick  bridge  from  Ville- 
bourbon  to  the  town — a  bridge  built  in  the  fourteenth 
century  wifh  an  internal  passage  running  beneath  the 
roadway  to  the  ancient  Chateau.  Then,  making  our  way 
past  the  old  Church  of  St.  Jacques,  with  its  fine  Gothic 
octagonal  tower,  and  passing  through  a  number  of  streets 
we  found  ourselves  in  the  narrow  old-world  Rue  de  La- 
1'ande. 

Just  as  we  entered  the  street,  which  contained  a  num- 
ber of  small  shops,  I  halted. 

"  He  must  not  see  me !  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  I  quite  agree,"  replied  the  Spanish  detective.  "  There 
is  a  little  cafe  over  there.  Go  in  and  wait  for  me.  I  will 
make  some  discreet  inquiries  concerning  this  Monsieur 
Rabel." 

Hence  we  parted,  and  while  Senor  Rivero  sauntered 


THE  TRACK  OF  DESPUJOL  221 

along  the  street  in  search  of  the  house  in  question,  I  went 
into  the  cafe  and  ordered  a  bock. 

Full  of  anxiety  lest,  after  all,  this  man  Rabel  should  be 
a  respectable  citizen,  I  waited. 

Time  passed  slowly.  Half  an  hour  went  by.  I  ordered 
a  mazagran  and  sat  smoking,  trying  to  suppress  my  eager- 
ness. An  hour  elapsed — an  hour  and  a  half — two  hours ! 

I  waited  yet  another  half-hour  until  the  proprietor  of 
the  cafe  began  to  look  askance  at  me.  Then  I  paid,  and 
rising,  went  out  into  the  street. 

It  was  now  dark.  There  was  no  sign  of  my  friend  the 
Spanish  police  agent.  He  had  disappeared! 

I  stood  upon  the  pavement  full  of  anxiety  and  bewilder- 
ment. 

What  could  have  happened  to  him? 


CHAPTER  THE  TWENTIETH 

MADEMOISELLE  JACQUELOT 

I  RETURNED  to  my  rather  barely-furnished  room  at  the 
Hotel  du  Midi  which  overlooked  the  Place  outside  the 
station  in  the  suburb  across  the  river,  and  sank  into  a 
chair  to  reflect. 

The  concierge — a  lad  who  wore  the  concierge's  cap 
— the  concierge  being  off  duty  at  his  evening  meal — in- 
formed me  that  my  friend  had  not  returned.  He  seemed 
an  alert  French  lad  of  that  type  so  frequently  seen  in 
Continental  hotels. 

Senor  Rivero  had  disappeared !  For  an  hour  I  waited 
seated  alone  in  my  room  reflecting  deeply.  My  sole  de- 
sire and  fixed  object  was  to  solve  the  enigma  of  Gabrielle 
Tennison's  unfortunate  mental  state  and  to  bring  to  jus- 
tice those  unscrupulous  blackguards  responsible  for  it. 
As  I  sat  there  her  pale  beautiful  face  arose  before  me — 
the  wonderful  countenance  of  the  girl  who  had,  in  such 
a  strange  and  indescribable  manner,  taken  possession 
of  my  soul.  To  analyse  my  feelings  towards  her  was  im- 
possible. I  put  to  myself  the  query  why  I  loved  her, 
but  I  was  utterly  unable  to  answer  it. 

I  loved  her  most  passionately  and  devotedly.  That 
was  all. 

The  tragedy  of  the  situation  was  that  I  loved  one  who, 
alas!  could  not  return  my  affection  as  a  girl  with  her 
mental  balance  unaffected  could  do.  Her  poor  unbal- 
anced brain  could  never  allow  her  to  understand  me,  or 
to  return  my  love. 

222 


MADEMOISELLE  JACQUELOT  223 

I  was  tired  after  the  long  sleepless  journey  from  Spain, 
and  I  suppose  I  must  have  dozed  in  my  chair. 

I  awoke  suddenly,  hearing  a  tap  upon  the  door,  and 
an  elderly  chambermaid  entered  with  a  telegram. 

I  tore  it  open  and  found  it  had  been  dispatched  from 
Castelsarrasin,  and  was  from  Rivero,  saying :  "  Absence 
unavoidable.  Hope  to  be  back  by  midnight." 

"  Where  is  Castelsarrasin  ?  "  I  inquired  of  the  woman. 
"  It  is  about  sixteen  kilometres  from  here,  m'sieur,"  re- 
plied the  buxom  woman  in  the  strong  accent  of  Toulouse. 
"  It  is  on  the  road  to  Agen  and  the  railway  junction  for 
Beaumont-de-Lomagne.  Just  a  small  town.  They  say 
that  the  name  is  a  corruption  of  Castel-sur-Azin.  At 
least  my  mother  used  to  tell  me  so." 

What,  I  wondered,  had  taken  the  head  of  the  Madrid 
detective  force  out  there?  He  must  be  following  some 
fresh  clue. 

So  I  went  forth  across  the  bridge  to  a  big  cafe  opposite 
the  theatre,  and  there  idled  till  nearly  midnight,  when 
I  returned  eagerly  to  meet  my  friend. 

He  entered  my  room  just  before  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  tired  and  dusty,  for  he  appeared  to  have  walked 
a  long  distance.  I  had  some  cognac  and  a  syphon  of 
seltzer  awaiting  him,  and  sinking  exhausted  into  a  chair, 
he  took  a  long  and  refreshing  drink  before  he  spoke. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  said  with  a  sigh.  "  You  have  been  won- 
dering why  I  disappeared  so  mysteriously — eh  ?  The  fact 
is  I  was  compelled.  On  making  inquiry  of  a  shoemaker 
who  has  a  little  shop  near  Charles  Rabel's  house  I  learned 
that  the  man  for  whom  we  are  searching  lived  in  a  flat 
on  the  first  floor  of  the  house  kept  by  a  widow  named 
Cailliot.  But  he  was  frequently  absent  in  England  or  in 
Italy.  Only  for  short  spells  was  he  there,  for  he  was  a 
commercial  traveller  representing  a  Lyons  firm  of  silk- 


224         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

weavers.  As  we  were  speaking,  the  shoemaker  pointed 
to  a  rather  smart  young  woman  who  was  at  that  moment 
leaving  the  house,  and  said :  '  Look !  That  is  Mademoi- 
selle Jacquelot,  the  fiancee  of  Monsieur  Charles !  She 
might  tell  you  where  he  is.  I  do  not  think  he  is  at  home 
to-day.  I  saw  him  four  days  ago  and  spoke  to  him  as 
he  passed.  But  I  believe  he  has  left  again ! '  I  thanked 
him,  and  at  once  followed  Mademoiselle,  hence  I  had  no 
time  to  tell  you,  for  I  had  no  idea  where  she  was  going. 
I  saw  that  by  following  Rabel's  fiancee  I  might  gain 
some  useful  knowledge.  She  walked  to  the  station,  and 
took  a  ticket  for  Castelsarrasin.  I  did  the  same.  We 
had  half  an  hour  to  wait,  but  I  spent  it  patiently,  and 
when  we  left  I  travelled  alone  with  her  in  the  same  com- 
partment. Soon  I  managed  to  get  into  conversation  with 
her,  whereupon  I  mentioned  that  I  had  a  friend,  Mon- 
sieur Charles  Rabel,  in  Montauban,  and  that  we  had  met 
in  Paris.  He  had  once  shown  me  her  photograph  and  I 
believed  I  was  not  mistaken  that  she  was  Mademoiselle 
Jacquelot.  "At  first  she  was  surprised,  but  I  told  her  a 
very  plausible  story,  whereupon  she  explained  that  Charles 
had  gone  to  Toulouse  on  business  three  days  before,  but 
that  he  was  returning  at  noon  to-morrow.  She  herself 
lived  in  Castelsarrasin." 

"  But  do  you  anticipate  that  we  shall  discover  in 
Charles  Rabel  the  notorious  Despujol?"  I  inquired 
eagerly. 

Rivero  raised  his  shoulders  and  elevated  his  black 
eyebrows,  saying: 

"  From  facts  I  gathered  from  Mademoiselle  concern- 
ing him  I  certainly  think  that  we  are  really  upon  his 
track.  It  hardly  seems  possible,  but  we  must  remain  in 
patience  till  to-morrow.  Then,  if  we  find  our  surmise 
correct,  we  must  act  with  the  greatest  caution  if  we  are 


MADEMOISELLE  JACQUELOT  225 

to  watch  him  to  Nimes  where  he  is  to  meet  your  mys- 
terious friend — the  man  whose  name  you  refuse  to  re- 
veal." 

"  When  they  meet  you  will  at  once  recognize  him,"  I 
said.  "  I  may  be  mistaken,"  I  added.  "  But  I  do  not 
anticipate  that  I  am.  If  all  goes  well,  then  you  will  ar- 
rest the  notorious  Despujol." 

"  I  only  wish  that  the  fellow  would  fall  into  my  hands," 
replied  my  companion.  "If  so,  then  revelations  will  be 
made  that  will  startle  Europe." 

"  And  incidentally  gain  you  promotion  in  the  service — 
eh?"  I  laughed. 

He  nodded  and  admitted: 

"  I  hope  so,  Seiior  Garfield.  I  sincerely  hope  so,"  he 
replied,  and  we  parted  for  the  night. 

Next  day  I  woke  early  and  sought  my  friend.  We  idled 
about  till  nearly  noon,  when  we  went  together  to  the  rail- 
way station  to  watch  the  arrival  of  the  train  from  Tou- 
louse. 

A  number  of  people  were  about,  for  the  dusty  lumber- 
ing express  from  Bordeaux  to  Marseilles  had,  at  that 
moment,  arrived,  and  considerable  bustle  ensued  in  con- 
sequence. 

While  we  stood  watching  the  crowd  Senor  Rivero  sud- 
denly touched  my  arm,  and  whispered : 

"  Look  yonder !  The  girl  in  dark  blue !  That  is 
Mademoiselle  Jacquelot!  She  must  not  see  me.  I 
wonder  why  she  is  here — if  not  to  warn  him  of  the  in- 
quiries made  concerning  him  by  a  stranger!" 

I  glanced  in  the  direction  he  had  indicated  and  saw 
a  tall,  slim,  rather  good-looking  girl  sauntering  idly  in 
our  direction.  Her  attention  had,  for  the  moment,  been 
diverted  by  an  advertisement  upon  the  wall. 

"  Quick !  "  cried  my  friend.    "  Let  us  slip  back  here." 


226        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

And  next  moment  we  had  repassed  the  barrier,  back 
into  the  booking-office. 

"  If  she  sees  me  her  suspicions  will  be  aroused — if 
they  are  not  already  aroused,"  said  my  companion.  "  The 
fact  that  she  is  here  gives  rise  to  the  question  whether 
she  is  really  so  innocent  as  she  pretends.  She  may  know 
of  her  lover's  escapades,  and  suspects  me  of  having  fol- 
lowed her  out  to  her  home." 

"If  she  does  suspect,  then  she  is  cleverer  than  you 
anticipated,"  I  remarked. 

"  Yes.  But  in  any  case  we  had  better  act  independently. 
You  return  to  the  platform,  for  she  has  never  seen  you. 
You  will  remain  well  concealed  and  watch  them  meet, 
while  I  shall  be  at  the  exit  to  identify  him  if  you  find  that 
you  cannot  get  near  enough  to  him  without  courting  ob- 
servation." 

As  he  spoke  the  bell  was  clanging,  and  there  came  the 
roar  of  the  engine  entering  the  big  echoing  station. 

I  slipped  back  instantly  upon  the  platform  and  standing 
at  a  point  against  the  corner  of  the  bookstand  where  I 
hoped  to  escape  unobserved,  I  turned  my  head  away  as 
the  train  came  along.  Then,  when  it  drew  up,  I  held 
my  breath  anxiously  as  I  turned  around. 

The  girl  in  navy  blue  was  not  far  from  me  searching 
along  the  train  until,  of  a  sudden, "she  espied  a  man  in 
a  dark  overcoat  and  dark-green  velour  hat,  who  had 
just  alighted,  carrying  in  his  hand  a  small  leather  case. 
His  countenance  was  ruddy,  and  he  had  a  small  black 
moustache. 

My  heart  fell.  The  man  was  a  stranger  to  me !  The 
countenance  was  not  that  of  the  man  whom  I  had  sur- 
prised in  my  bedroom  at  Madrid.  He  bent  and  greeted 
her  affectionately,  but  next  moment  it  was  apparent  that 


MADEMOISELLE  JACQUELOT  227 

she  was  explaining  something  which  caused  his  coun- 
tenance to  grow  serious. 

He  put  one  or  two  swift  questions  to  her.  Then  halt- 
ing suddenly,  he  glanced  at  his  watch. 

I  strove  to  get  sufficiently  near  to  look  well  into  his 
face,  but  I  feared  recognition. 

Would  he  pass  out  of  the  exit  where  the  famous  Span- 
ish detective  was  awaiting  him?  Rivero  knew  Despujol 
by  photographs,  and  indeed  had  been  present  when  he 
had  been  convicted  on  the  last  occasion  a  few  years  be- 
fore. 

Mademoiselle's  friend  hesitated  for  some  moments,  and 
then  accosting  a  porter  asked  a  question.  The  man 
pointed  to  a  train  on  the  opposite  platform. 

"  Was  it  possible  that  what  Mademoiselle  had  told  him 
had  scared  him  ?  It  seemed  so,  for  with  a  sudden  resolve, 
instead  of  walking  to  the  exit  he  entered  the  booking- 
office  and  bought  another  ticket. 

In  an  instant  I  dashed  to  the  exit  where  the  Spaniard 
was  waiting,  and  in  a  few  breathless  words  told  him  of 
the  man's  intention. 

To  my  amazement  Senor  Rivero  heard  me  unmoved. 

"  I  was  awaiting  you,"  he  said.  "  The  man  you  have 
been  watching  is  not  Despujol  at  all.  Despujol,  whom  I 
recognized,  passed  out  a  few  moments  ago  and  took  a  cab 
to  his  house  in  the  Rue  de  Lalande." 

"  Then  you  have  seen  him !  "  I  gasped. 

"  Yes.  It  is  Rodriquez  Despujol,  without  a  doubt, 
Monsieur  Garfield.  You  have  not  been  mistaken,  and 
we  must  certainly  thank  you  for  putting  us  upon  the 
track  of  this  dangerous  assassin." 

"  Then,  after  all,  my  surmise  is  correct !  And  he  will 
go  on  Monday  to  meet  his  paymaster  in  Nimes,"  I  said. 


228         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  The  plot  against  me  failed.    Probably  a  second  attempt 
is  to  be  made." 

"  We  shall  be  careful  not  to  be  seen  until  he  travels  to 
Nimes,"  laughed  Rivero,  well  satisfied  at  the  progress  he 
had  made. 

"  But  I  wonder  who  is  the  red- faced  man  whom 
Mademoiselle  has  met,"  I  remarked.  "  She  has  evidently 
warned  him  of  some  danger." 

"  If  that's  so  we  ought  to  see  him,"  my  friend  ex- 
claimed. "  Let  us  go  together  on  to  the  platform  and 
watch.  So  long  as  Mademoiselle  does  not  recognize  me, 
we  are  safe." 

With  the  reassuring  knowledge  that  the  man  who  was 
being  sought  for  by  the  whole  police  of  Europe  had 
gone  to  his  unsuspicious  abode  in  the  Rue  de  Lalande, 
we  returned  to  the  far  platform  where  a  train  stood  wait- 
ing to  leave.  It  was  the  rapide  for  Paris  by  way  of 
Bourges.  The  man  was  already  in  a  third-class  compart- 
ment and  as  he  stood  with  his  head  out  of  the  window, 
Mademoiselle  was  chatting  with  him.  Truly  his  stay 
in  Montauban  had  not  been  long. 

The  instant  Rivero  caught  sight  of  the  fellow's  face, 
he  exclaimed: 

"  Holy  Madonna !  Why,  it  is  Mateo  Sanz,  the  motor- 
bandit.  We've  been  searching  everywhere  for  him !  He 
shot  and  killed  a  carabineer  near  Malaga  a  month  ago !  " 

Next  second  he  had  left  me  and  a  few  moments  later 
hurried  back.  He  had  bought  a  ticket. 

"  Sanz  does  not  know  me.  As  soon  as  we've  left  the 
station  and  are  away  from  Mademoiselle  I  shall  be  all 
right.  Remain  here.  I  will  wire  you,  and  in  any  case 
we  shall  be  together  in  Nimes  on  Monday.  But  be  care- 
ful not  to  be  seen  by  Despujol.  He  is  a  wary  bird,  re- 
member !  " 


MADEMOISELLE  JACQUELOT  229 

Then,  unseen  by  Mademoiselle,  he  entered  a  first-class 
compartment  of  the  train,  just  as  the  signal  was  given  to 
start. 

The  train  moved  off,  and  I  was  left  alo*ne.  Surely 
much  had  happened  in  those  few  exciting  moments! 

But  why  had  Mademoiselle  Jacquelot  warned  her  friend 
the  motor-bandit?  If  she  had  warned  him  because  of 
Rivero's  inquiries  concerning  Despujol  then  she  could 
also  warn  the  latter.  Again  it  was  curious  that  she 
met  Sanz,  and  did  not  meet  Despujol.  Further,  it  was 
a  strange  fact  that  the  pair  of  Spanish  criminals  had  not 
travelled  together — unless  there  was  some  reason  for  it. 

Perhaps  there  was. 

I  watched  Mademoiselle  as  she  passed  out  of  the  station 
to  a  little  restaurant  where  she  had  a  frugal  meal.  Then 
she  returned  and  took  a  ticket  back  to  her  home  in  Castel- 
sarrasin. 

Rivero  now  had  his  hands  full.  Not  only  had  he 
identified  in  the  respectable  commercial  traveller,  Charles 
Rabel,  the  notorious  assassin  Despujol,  but  he  had  also 
quite  accidentally  come  across  Sanz  the  motor-bandit, 
who  of  late  had  terrorized  the  south  of  Spain,  and  whose 
daring  depredations  were  upon  everyone's  lips.  Madem- 
oiselle seemed  to  be  a  friend  of  both  men ! 

I  returned  to  my  hotel  close  by,  and  ate  my  dejeuner 
alone.  My  position  was  a  very  unenviable  one,  for  I 
feared  to  go  over  into  the  town  lest  I  should  come  face 
to  face  with  the  man  who  had  so  cunningly  made  an 
attempt  upon  me  as  the  hireling  of  Oswald  De  Gex. 

But  my  thoughts  were  ever  of  my  beloved,  the  girl 
who  was  the  victim  of  some  foul  plot  into  which  I,  too, 
had  been  drawn — a  mystery  which  I  was  devoting  my 
whole  life  to  solve. 

At  five  o'clock  that  evening  I  received  a  telegram  from 


230        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

Harry  in  Madrid,  telling  me  that  all  was  quiet,  and  "  our 
friend  " — meaning  De  Gex — never  went  out. 

To  this  I  replied  in  a  cryptic  way  that  our  suspicions 
had  been  verified,  and  that  the  person  of  whom  we  were 
in  search  we  had  discovered.  We  were  only  now  wait- 
ing for  the  appointment  to  be  kept  at  the  Hotel  de 
Luxembourg  at  Nimes. 

Next  day  passed  uneventfully.  In  order  to  kill  time  I 
took  train  to  the  quaint  little  town  of  Moissac,  an  ancient 
little  place  on  the  Tarn  about  twenty-five  kilometres  dis- 
tant, and  there  spent  the  hours  wandering  about  the 
countryside  which  is  so  famed  for  its  grapes  in  autumn. 
I  did  not  return  to  Montauban  till  after  seven,  and  while 
I  sat  at  dinner  the  waiter  handed  me  another  telegram. 
It  was  from  Rivero,  and  having  been  sent  from  Lyons, 
read :  "  All  well.  Just  returning  to  Montauban." 

Later,  I  busied  myself  with  time-tables  and  found  that 
he  would  be  due  to  arrive  about  six  o'clock  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning.  Therefore  I  possessed  myself  in 
patience,  and  I  was  still  in  bed  when  in  the  morning  he 
entered  my  room. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  exclaimed  in  French,  as  he  sank  wearily 
into  a  chair.  "  I've  had  a  swift  and  weary  journey.  Sanz 
has  been  alarmed  by  the  girl.  Why,  I  cannot  tell.  Did 
she  go  to  see  Despujol: 

"  No,"  I  replied.  "  She  didn't  see  him,  but  went 
straight  home." 

"  You  have  not  ventured  near  Despujol,  I  hope?  " 

"  No.    I  have  hardly  ventured  into  the  town." 

"  Good.  Well,  we  shall  make  a  double  arrest,"  he 
went  on.  "  When  the  train  arrived  at  the  junction  at 
Montlucon  at  midnight  Sanz,  evidently  fearing  lest  he 
was  followed,  slipped  out  of  the  train  and  into  another 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  platform.  It  is  a  favourite 


231 

dodge  of  elusive  persons  of  his  type.  So,  unseen  by  him, 
I  also  joined  the  train,  and  we  travelled  across  to  Lyons. 
There  he  went  to  a  house  in  the  Rue  Chevreuil,  close  to 
the  river,  and  when  I  had  him  safely  there  I  went  to  the 
Bureau  of  Police  and  asked  that  observation  should 
be  kept  upon  him  until  such  time  that  we  in  Spain  should 
demand  his  arrest  and  extradition.  The  Lyons  police 
know  me  very  well,  so  two  agents  were  at  once  detailed 
for  that  duty,  and  I  immediately  made  my  way  back 
here.  It  seems  that  Sanz  is  also  wanted  in  France  for  a 
motor-car  exploit  outside  Orleans.  Therefore  our  dis- 
covery is  indeed  a  lucky  one ! " 

"  Will  Sanz  be  arrested  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes.  I  have  already  reported  by  telegram  to  Senor 
Andrade  in  Madrid.  He  will  at  once  ask  them  in  Paris 
to  order  the  arrest." 

"And  Despujol?" 

"  We  have  now  to  await  his  journey  to  Nimes  to  keep 
this  mysterious  appointment  with  your  friend." 

"  Not  my  friend,"  I  remarked,  "  rather  with  my  bit- 
terest enemy !  '** 


CHAPTER  THE  TWENTY-FIRST 

AT  THE  HOTEL  LUXEMBOURG 

As  a  detective  Rivero  was  of  outstanding  shrewdness. 
He  knew  that  more  could  be  gained  by  patience  than  by 
sharp  activity.  Hence  he  did  not  go  near  the  Rue  de 
Lalande.  Indeed,  on  the  Saturday  night  we  both  left 
Montauban  together,  and  travelled  by  that  slow,  cross- 
country route  through  the  Aveyron,  by  way  of  Severac, 
down  to  the  ancient  city  of  Nimes — that  quaint,  quiet  old 
place  which  contains  more  monuments  of  antiquity  than 
any  other  town  in  France. 

Early  in  the  morning  we  alighted  at  the  station,  high 
upon  a  viaduct,  after  a  sleepless  night,  and  drove  to  a 
small  commercial  hotel,  the  Cheval  Blanc,  in  the  Place  des 
Arenes,  nearly  opposite  the  Luxembourg  where  the  mys- 
tery-man of  Europe  had  appointed  to  meet  the  infamous 
Despujol.  When  I  inquired  for  a  telegram  one  was 
handed  to  me.  It  was  from  Hambledon,  saying  that  De 
Gex  had  left  for  Nimes  and  Suzor  was  returning  to  Paris, 
therefore  he  would  follow  the  latter. 

Having  installed  ourselves  in  the  hotel,  Rivero  went 
to  the  concierge,  and  taking  him  into  his  confidence  over 
a  twenty-franc  note,  told  him  that  he  was  very  anxious 
to  know  whether  a  gentleman  named  Rabel  had  arrived 
at  the  Luxembourg.  Would  he  ask  the  concierge  there 
privately  on  the  telephone? 

The  man  in  uniform  at  once  rang  up  the  Luxembourg, 
and  addressing  the  concierge  as  his  "  dear  Henri,"  made 
the  inquiry. 

232 


AT  THE  HOTEL  LUXEMBOURG 

The  reply  was  that  Monsieur  Rabel  was  expected  at 
noon. 

"  Ask  if  a  gentleman  is  expected  who  has  engaged 
a  private  sitting-room,"  Rivero  said. 

The  reply  came  back  that  a  gentleman,  believed  to 
be  English,  had  arrived  in  the  night  and  now  occupied 
the  best  suite.  His  name  was  Monsieur  Johnson,  of  Lon- 
don. 

I  then  described  De  Gex  to  the  concierge,  who  re- 
peated the  description  to  the  other  hotel. 

"  Yes,  m'sieur,"  he  said,  turning  again  to  me.  "  Henri 
believes  it  is  the  same  gentleman  whom  you  describe." 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  asked  Rivero,  much  puzzled. 

"  Wait — and  you  will  see,"  I  replied,  laughing,  for  we 
now  seemed  to  be  within  an  ace  of  success. 

Just  before  midday  we  watched  the  arrival  of  the 
train  from  Montauban,  and  from  it  there  descended  the 
man  we  expected — the  notorious  Despujol.  Though  his 
features  were  unmistakable  he  was  made  up  to  look  much 
older,  his  hair  being  made  grey  above  the  ears. 

At  his  side  there  walked  a  man  whom  I  instantly 
recognized,  and  sight  of  him,  I  must  confess,  caused  me 
to  hold  my  breath. 

It  was  the  sinister-faced  Italian,  Doctor  Moroni. 

We  drew  back,  and  hastening  to  a  taxi,  returned  at  once 
to  our  hotel,  from  the  door  of  which  we  could  see  the 
entrance  to  the  Luxembourg,  where  a  few  moments  later 
we  saw  both  the  travellers  enter. 

What  further  devil's  work  was  now  in  progress? 

We  watched  the  hotel  in  patience,  until  just  before 
three  o'clock  the  trio  came  forth  laughing  airily. 

"  Why,  look !  "  gasped  Rivero.  "  Despujol  is  with 
your  great  English  financier,  Senor  De  Gex !  " 

I  smiled  triumphantly. 


234        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  I  told  you  that  I  had  a  surprise  in  store  for  you,"  I 
exclaimed. 

"  But  if  Despujol  is  with  him  it  must  be  with  some 
evil  intent ! " 

"  That  is  certain !  " 

"  While  Senor  De  Gex  was  in  Madrid  we  had  orders 
to  afford  him  police  protection,"  Rivero  said.  "  Possibly 
he  suspected  that  some  attempt  might  be  made  upon  him. 
Certainly  he  has  no  idea  of  that  man's  true  identity." 

"  Yes,  he  has,  for  he  has  come  here  specially  to  meet 
him  in  secret.  But  why  that  Italian  should  be  here  I  can 
only  surmise.  He  is  a  doctor  from  Florence,  named 
Moroni — a  man  of  very  evil  repute." 

"  But  why  should  Senor  De  Gex  meet  such  people  in 
secret  ?  "  asked  Rivero,  much  astonished. 

"  I  suppose  there  is  some  strong  motive  why  they 
should  meet — the  more  so,  now  that  I  have  proved  to  you 
that  the  notorious  Despujol  is  a  hireling  of  this  wealthy 
man  De  Gex." 

"A  hireling!"  he  gasped.     "What  do  you  mean?" 

"  I  mean  that  De  Gex  hired  Despujol  to  make  that 
attempt  upon  my  life,  and  I  have  a  suspicion — one  not 
yet  entirely  verified — that  Moroni  prepared  that  deadly 
orosin  by  the  agency  of  which  it  was  hoped  that  I  should 
meet  with  my  death." 

"  Do  you  really  suggest  that  De  Gex,  one  of  the  best- 
known  and  most  philanthropic  men  in  Europe,  actually 
hired  Despujol  to  go  to  your  room  that  night?  "  my  com- 
panion asked,  his  eyes  following  the  trio  as  they  walked 
together  and  chatted  beneath  the  trees  of  the  Avenue 
Feucheres. 

"  I  do.  And  further,  De  Gex  has  every  motive  in 
closing  my  lips." 

"Ah!    Then  you  hold  some  secret  of  his,  perhaps?" 


AT  THE  HOTEL  LUXEMBOURG          235 

asked  Rivero,  a  new  interest  being  instantly  aroused. 
"  I  do — one  that  I  intend  to  expose  when  I  obtain  suffi- 
cient corroborative  evidence,"  I  answered  with  deter- 
mination. "  But  is  not  the  fact  of  the  three  men  meeting 
here  in  secret  under  assumed  names  sufficient  proof 
to  you  that  some  fresh  plot  is  afoot?" 

"  Certainly  it  is,"  Rivero  agreed.  "  But  I  wish  you 
would  reveal  to  me  the  whole  facts." 

"  It  is  unnecessary,"  was  my  reply.  "  You  are  here 
only  to  deal  with  Despujol.  I  promised  I  would  bring 
you  to  him — and  I  have  done  so.  Instead  of  living  in 
obscurity  in  a  high-up  frontier  village  in  the  Pyrenees, 
as  you  in  Madrid  believed,  I  have  shown  you  that  he 
lives  in  Montauban,  where  he  passes  as  an  industrious 
commercial  traveller.  If  you  search  that  house  in  the 
Rue  de  Lalande  you  might  find  a  quantity  of  stolen  prop- 
erty." 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  has  already  been  searched  by 
the  police  of  Montauban  at  my  request,"  he  replied.  "  The 
raid  was  made  last  night  after  Charles  Rabel  had  left. 
I  received  a  telegram  from  the  Commissary  of  Police 
only  an  hour  ago  to  the  effect  that  six  heavy  cases  of 
'  travellers'  samples '  had  been  opened,  and  in  them  was 
found  a  great  quantity  of  stolen  jewellery,  negotiable 
securities,  and  other  objects  of  value,  including  two 
valuable  paintings  which  were  missing  from  the  Prado 
Museum  three  years  ago." 

r<  Then  my  information  has  been  of  some  little  use 
to  you— eh  ?  " 

"Of  enormous  use,  Senor  Garfield!  You  will  no 
doubt  receive  an  official  letter  of  thanks  from  the  Min- 
istry of  the  Interior,"  he  replied.  "  But  we  must  act 
very  warily.  Despujol  will  not  risk  remaining  here  for 


236        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

long.  Besides,  some  friend  may  telegraph  to  him  that 
the  police  have  been  to  the  Rue  de  Lalande !  " 

Once  more  it  was  upon  the  tip  of  my  tongue  to  ex- 
plain the  manner  in  which  I  had  become  inmplicated  in 
the  evil  deeds  of  Oswald  De  Gex  and  his  sycophants, 
when  of  a  sudden  he  added : 

"  You  must  really  forgive  me,  Sefior  Garfield,  but  you 
are  an  entire  mystery  to  me.  You  have  never  been  frank 
with  me — never  once !  " 

"  I  have  been  as  frank  as  I  dared,"  I  replied.  "  I 
tell  you  that  I  am  here  to  watch  and  to  strive  to  elucidate 
a  great  plot — one  which  concerns  myself  and  the  woman 
I  love.  We  have  both  been  victims  of  a  vile  and  des- 
perate conspiracy." 

"  And  whom  do  you  suspect  ?  " 

"  Oswald  De  Gex." 

"  With  what  motive  ?  "  he  asked,  for  he  held  the  enorm- 
ously wealthy  financial  friend  of  Spain  in  awe  and 
admiration. 

"  That,  alas !  is  an  enigma  to  me.  I  only  know  that 
he  has  made  an  attempt  upon  my  life,  and  that  at  least 
one  woman  has  been  sent  to  the  grave  by  foul  means." 

"  Do  you  really  infer  that  Senor  De  Gex  is  an  assas- 
sin ?"'  he  asked  incredulously. 

"  I  only  tell  you  what  I  know,  Senor  Rivero,"  I  replied 
quietly.  "  I  said  that  I  would  lead  you  to  the  secret 
abode  of  Despujol,  and  I  think  I  have  now  fulfilled  my 
promise,  and  shown  you  that  he  is  on  friendly  terms  with 
the  great  financier  whom  you  in  Spain  all  hold  in  such 
high  esteem." 

"  There  is  certainly  no  man  more  welcome  in  Madrid 
than  Senor  De  Gex,"  replied  the  police  official.  "  At  the 
Ritz,  whether  in  his  own  name  or  incognito,  he  con- 
stantly receives  our  greatest  politicians  and  most  prom- 


AT  THE  HOTEL  LUXEMBOURG          237 

inent  personages.  Even  the  King  has  more  than  once 
commanded  him  to  the  palace,  in  order  to  confer  with 
him  upon  acute  financial  problems  in  the  interests  of  our 
country.  And  yet  you  infer  that  Senor  De  Gex  is  an 
assassin ! " 

"  I  not  only  infer  it,"  I  said,  "  but  I  openly  allege  it !  " 
I  added  hotly,  as  I  thought  of  Gabrielle. 

Rivero  glancing  at  me  quickly  raised  his  shoulders 
with  a  gesture  of  disbelief. 

"  Very  well,"  I  said.  "  At  least  I  have  proved  to  you 
that  he  is  a  secret  friend  of  the  notorious  Despujol.  Why 
is  he  here  in  Nimes  to  consult  with  De  Gex  and  his 
friend  the  Italian,  Moroni,  if  not  for  purposes  of  evil? 
Despujol  has  made  desperate  war  upon  society,  and  it  is 
De  Gex  who  secretly  finances  him !  Hence  he  is  the 
servant  of  the  man  with  money." 

The  dark-faced  Spaniard  reflected. 

"  Well,"  he  exclaimed  at  last.  "  What  you  have  re- 
vealed is  certainly  most  interesting." 

"  And  if  you  wish  to  capture  Despujol  you  must  lose 
no  time,"  I  assured  him.  "  Remember,  he  and  his  gang 
have  agents  everywhere  with  eyes  and  ears  open.  He 
will  soon  know  of  the  raid  upon  his  retreat  in  Mon- 
tauban." 

"  No  doubt  he  will,"  agreed  my  companion.  "  They 
will  return  presently,  and  then  we  will  arrest  him.  In 
the  meantime  I  will  call  upon  the  Commissary  of  Police. 
Come  with  me." 

We  at  once  took  a  cab  to  the  Prefecture  where  we 
were  ushered  into  the  presence  of  Monsieur  Coulagne, 
a  rather  tall,  grey-haired  elegant  man,  with  the  rosette 
of  the  Legion  of  Honour  in  his  coat. 

When  Rivero  introduced  himself  the  Commissary 
bowed  to  us  both  and  bade  us  be  seated. 


238        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

In  a  few  quick  sentences  the  Spanish  detective  ex- 
plained the  object  of  his  mission,  and  producing  his 
authority  from  the  Spanish  Ministry,  requested  the  ar- 
rest of  the  infamous  bandit  Despujol. 

"  But  is  Despujol  actually  in  Nimes?"  cried  the  Com- 
missary astounded. 

"  He  certainly  is.  I  identified  him  on  his  arrival  here 
at  midday." 

"  We  have  been  searching  for  him  for  over  two  years. 
He  is  wanted,  among  other  things,  for  the  murder  of 
Madame  Lescot,  a  wealthy  widow  of  Aixen-Provence." 

"  Ah !  Then  it  is  not  a  matter  for  extradition,  eh  ?  " 
remarked  Rivero.  "  We  want  him  for  a  dozen  crimes 
of  violence  in  Spain.  He  attempted  the  death  of  my 
English  companion  here,  Monsieur  Garfield — who  will 
give  evidence  against  him." 

The  Commissary  pressed  an  electric  button,  whereupon 
his  secretary  appeared. 

In  a  few  rapid  sentences  the  tall,  elegant  French  offi- 
cial gave  orders,  and  the  secretary  retired  at  once  to 
execute  them. 

"  Despujol  is  a  desperate  character.  He  is  always 
armed,  and  possesses  abnormal  strength.  He  could 
strangle  his  strongest  opponent,"  Rivero  remarked. 

"  I  have  taken  precautions,"  replied  Monsieur  Coulagne, 
smiling.  "  I  have  ordered  ten  men  in  plain  clothes  to  go 
at  once  unobtrusively  to  the  Hotel  du  Luxembourg,  and 
arrest  him  when  he  returns." 

"  That  will  frighten  De  Gex  and  Moroni,"  I  said 
quickly.  "  And  if  they  are  frightened  they  will  escape !  " 

Rivero  laughed.  I  knew  that  he  entirely  disbelieved 
my  statement.  In  his  eyes  the  wealthy  friend  of  Spain 
could  do  no  wrong.  Did  not  his  King  invite  him  to  con- 
ference, in  ignorance,  of  course,  of  his  true  character? 


AT  THE  HOTEL  LUXEMBOURG          239 

I  was  not  surprised  at  Rivero's  attitude,  yet  I  had  hoped 
that  Despujol's  arrest  would  be  effected  without  the 
knowledge  of  De  Gex  and  his  sinister  medical  friend. 

I  pointed  this  out,  whereupon  Rivero  remarked  with 
sarcasm : 

"  If  what  you  allege  against  Senor  De  Gex  and  his 
friend  be  true,  they  ought  also  to  be  arrested." 

"  Yes.  They  ought,  and  they  will  be  when  I  am  able 
to  bring  forward  sufficient  evidence  to  convict  them,"  I 
replied  warmly.  "  Why,  I  ask  you,  should  Oswald  De 
Gex  be  in  secret  association  with  that  dangerous  bandit  ?  " 

The  Spaniard  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders,  while 
at  the  Commissary's  request  a  dossier  was  brought  in, 
and  then  they  both  went  through  a  long  catalogue  of 
crimes  alleged  to  have  been  instigated  or  actually  com- 
mitted by  the  man  whom  I  had  found  in  my  bedroom, 
and  who  had  so  cleverly  deceived  me. 

The  list  was  a  formidable  one,  and  showed  how  elusive 
was  the  man  whom  the  police  of  Europe  had  been  hunt- 
ing for  so  long. 

Among  the  big  batch  of  papers  was  a  report  in  Eng- 
lish from  the  Metropolitan  Police  at  Scotland  Yard 
stating  that  the  individual  in  question  had  arrived  in 
London  on  a  certain  date,  and  stayed  with  a  respec- 
table family  at  Ham,  near  Richmond,  representing  him- 
self to  be  a  lawyer  from  Barcelona.  Thence  he  had 
gone  to  Glasgow,  where  he  stayed  at  a  certain  hotel,  and 
then  moved  to  Oban.  Afterwards  he  had  come  south 
again  to  Luton,  in  Bedfordshire,  where  all  trace  of  him 
had  been  lost. 

"  Well,"  laughed  Rivero  triumphantly,  "  we  shall  take 
good  care  not  to  lose  him  now ! " 

"  No,"  said  the  Commissary  of  Police.  "  My  men  will 
be  armed,  and  will  take  him,  alive  or  dead ! " 


240        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  And  De  Gex  and  Moroni  will  then  instantly  flee ! " 
I  said,  full  of  regret  that  I  had  taken  that  step  which 
might  so  easily  result  in  destroying  all  my  chances  of 
solving  that  puzzling  enigma  of  Gabrielle  Tennison. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  a  source  of  satisfaction  that  at 
last  Despujol  had,  by  my  watchfulness,  been  run  to 
earth. 

Suddenly  the  telephone  at  Monsieur  Coulagne's  elbow 
rang,  and  after  listening,  he  exclaimed: 

"  The  men  are  already  posted  round  the  hotel.  So  all 
we  have  to  do  is  to  await  his  return." 

Hence  I  went  forth  with  Rivero  and  the  Commissary. 
Led  by  the  latter,  we  approached  the  Place  de  1'Esplanade 
through  a  labyrinth  of  narrow  back  streets  until,  on  gain- 
ing the  hotel,  we  saw  idling  in  the  vicinity  a  number  of 
men  who  were  apparently  quite  disinterested. 

We  entered  the  hotel  boldly,  and  drawing  back  to  the 
end  of  the  lounge,  after  a  whispered  word  with  the 
concierge,  we  waited. 

For  a  full  hour  we  remained  there  in  eager  impatience, 
until  suddenly  a  figure  whom  I  recognized  as  Doctor 
Moroni  showed  in  the  doorway. 

He  was  alone! 

He  ascended  to  his  room,  where  he  remained  for 
about  ten  minutes.  Then,  descending,  he  went  to  the 
bureau  and  inquired  for  the  bill  of  his  friend  and  him- 
self, announcing  his  intention  of  departing  for  Paris 
by  the  train  which  left  in  half  an  hour! 

Rivero,  who  had  been  standing  near  him  unrecognized, 
crossed  quickly  to  where  with  the  Commissary  I  sat  well 
back  from  observation,  and  gasped: 

"  They've  gone !  He  is  also  leaving  i  Evidently  they 
suspected  they  were  under  observation !  " 

"Ah!     Despujol  is  a  very  wary  bird,"  replied  Mon- 


AT  THE  HOTEL  LUXEMBOURG          241 

sieur  Coulagne,  rising  and  walking  out  into  the  Place, 
where  he  whispered  some  hurried  words  to  a  stout,  well- 
dressed  man  who  was  sauntering  by,  and  wtio  was  his 
chief  inspector. 

In  a  few  moments  more  than  half  the  lurking  police 
agents  had  disappeared  to  make  inquiries  at  the  railway 
station  and  in  various  quarters,  and  when  he  rejoined 
us — Moroni  having  returned  upstairs — he  said : 

"  Despujol  cannot  yet  have  gone  very  far.  I  have 
given  orders  for  all  railway  stations  within  two  hundred 
kilometres  to  be  warned.  Let  us  return  to  my  bureau 
and  await  reports." 

"  And  what  about  Moroni  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  He  will  be  followed.  I  have  already  seen  to  that," 
was  the  reply. 

Back  at  the  Prefecture  Monsieur  Coulagne  was  soon 
speaking  rapidly  over  the  telephone.  Then  we  waited 
for  news  of  the  fugitive.  None  came  until  about  two 
hours  afterwards  the  result  of  inquiries  was  told  to  us 
by  an  inspector. 

It  seemed  that  on  the  previous  day  a  large  open  car, 
driven  by  a  chauffeur,  put  into  Carli's  Garage,  a  big 
establishment  in  the  Boulevard  des  Arenes.  The  chauf- 
feur asked  for  a  receipt  for  the  car,  saying  that  he  had 
to  go  by  train  to  Marseilles,  and  that  his  master  would 
probably  call  for  the  car  on  the  following  day,  and  pro- 
duce the  receipt.  He  asked  that  it  should  be  rilled  up  with 
petrol  in  readiness  for  his  master.  About  two  hours  be- 
fore the  police  made  inquiry  three  gentlemen  entered  the 
garage,  the  descriptions  of  whom  tallied  with  those  of  De 
Gex,  Despujol  and  Moroni.  De  Gex  produced  the  re- 
ceipt for  the  car.  He  paid  for  the  petrol,  and  he  and 
Despujol  drove  away  bidding  farewell  to  Moroni !  Des- 
pujol drove  the  car. 


242        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Rivero.  "Despujol  would  not  risk 
the  train.  He  always  arranges  a  secret  means  of  escape. 
In  this  case  he  prepared  it  on  the  day  before.  Without 
a  doubt  he  knew  that  watch  was  being  kept." 

"  Or  was  it  that  De  Gex  knew  that  I  was  here  ?  "  I  sug- 
gested. 

"  Well,  in  any  case,"  remarked  the  Commissary  of 
Police,  "  the  pair  have  got  clear  away,  and  though  we 
will  do  our  best,  it  will  no  doubt  be  extremely  difficult 
to  rediscover  them.  They  will  change  the  number-plates 
on  the  car,  and  perhaps  repaint  it!  Who  knows?  Des- 
pujol is  one  of  the  most  desperate  characters  in  all 
Europe ! " 

"  And  Oswald  De  Gex  is  equally  dangerous ! "  I  de- 
clared, for  I  was  still  no  nearer  the  truth. 


CHAPTER  THE  TWENTY-SECOND 

GABRIELLE   AT   HOME 

I  HAD  been  back  in  London  a  little  over  a  week  when  I 
read  in  the  paper  one  morning  a  paragraph  which  pos- 
sessed for  me  a  peculiar  interest.  It  ran  as  follows: 

"  The  notorious  Spanish  bandit  Rodriquez  Des- 
pujol,  who  has  for  several  years  terrorized  Murcia 
and  Andalusia  and  has  committed  several  murders, 
is  dead.  The  police  have  been  searching  for  him 
everywhere,  but  so  elusive  was  he  that  he  always 
evaded  them.  The  celebrated  Spanish  detective 
Senor  Rivero  learnt  a  short  time  ago  that  the  wanted 
man  had  been  seen  at  Nimes,  where  he  cleverly  con- 
trived to  escape  by  car. 

"  Certain  clues  came  into  the  hands  of  the  police, 
and  by  these  Senor  Rivero  was  able  to  trace  the 
fugitive  to  Denia,  not  far  from  Valencia.  He  was 
hiding  in  a  small  cottage  in  an  orange-grove  just  out- 
side the  town.  The  place  was  surrounded  by  police, 
but  Despujol,  discovering  this,  opened  fire  upon  them 
from  one  of  the  windows  and  also  threw  a  hand 
grenade  among  them,  with  result  that  two  cara- 
bineers were  killed  and  four  others  injured,  among 
the  latter  being  Senor  Rivero  himself.  A  desperate 
fight  ensued,  but  in  the  end  the  bandit  received  a 
bullet  in  the  head  which  proved  fatal. 

"  A  large  quantity  of  stolen  property  of  all  sorts  has 
243 


244        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

been  discovered  in  rooms  which  the  criminal  occupied 
in  Montauban,  in  France.  Despujol's  latest  ex- 
ploit was  an  attempt  to  administer  in  secret  a  very 
deadly  poison  to  an  Englishman  who  was  visiting 
Madrid.  It  was  that  attempted  crime  which  aroused 
Senor  Rivero's  activities  which  have  had  the  effect  of 
ridding  Spain  of  one  of  its  most  notorious  assassins." 

I  read  the  report  twice.  So  the  defiant  Despujol  was 
dead,  and  poor  Rivero  had  sustained  injuries !  Nothing 
was  said  of  the  powerful  financier's  friendship  with  the 
bandit. 

When  I  showed  it  to  Hambledon,  he  remarked : 

"  At  least  you've  been  the  means  not  only  of  putting 
an  end  to  Despujol's  ignoble  career,  but  also  of  restor- 
ing a  quantity  of  very  valuable  property  to  its  owners." 

"  True,  but  it  brings  us  no  nearer  a  solution  of  the 
affair  at  Stretton  Street,"  was  my  reply. 

Gabrielle's  mother  had  returned  to  London,  and  that 
evening  I  called  upon  her  by  appointment.  I  found  her 
a  grey-haired  refined  woman  with  a  pale  anxious  face 
and  deep-set  eyes. 

When  I  mentioned  Gabrielle,  who  was  in  the  adjoining 
room,  she  sighed  and  exclaimed: 

"  Ah !  Mr.  Garfield.  It  is  a  great  trial  to  me.  Poor 
child !  I  cannot  think  what  happened  to  her.  Nobody 
can  tell,  she  least  of  all.  Doctor  Moroni  has  been  very 
good,  for  he  is  greatly  interested  in  her  case.  They  have 
told  me  that  you  called  some  time  ago  and  evinced  an 
interest  in  her." 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Tennison,"  I  said.  "  I  feel  a  very  deep 
interest  in  your  daughter  because — well,  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  I,  too,  after  a  strange  adventure  here  in  London 
one  night  completely  lost  my  sense  of  identity,  and  when 


GABRIELLE  AT  HOME  245 

I  came  to  a  knowledge  of  things  about  me  I  was  in  a 
hospital  in  France,  having  been  found  unconscious  at 
the  roadside  many  days  after  my  adventure  in  London." 

"  How  very  curious !  "  Mrs.  Tennison  remarked,  in- 
stantly interested.  "  Gabrielle  was  found  at  the  road- 
side. Do  you  think,  then,  that  there  is  any  connexion 
between  your  case  and  hers?" 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Tennison,"  I  replied  promptly.  "  It  is  for 
that  reason  I  am  in  active  search  of  the  truth — in  the 
interests  of  your  daughter,  as  well  as  of  those  of  my 
own." 

"What  do  you  suspect,  Mr.  Garfield?"  asked  Gab- 
rielle's  mother,  as  we  sat  in  that  cosily-furnished  little 
room  where  on  the  table  in  the  centre  stood  an  old  punch- 
bowl filled  with  sweet-smelling  La  France  roses. 

"  I  suspect  many  things.  In  some,  my  suspictions 
have  proved  correct.  In  others,  I  am  still  entirely  in  the 
dark.  One  important  point,  however,  I  have  established, 
namely,  the  means  by  which  this  curious,  mysterious 
effect  has  been  produced  upon  the  minds  of  both  your 
daughter  and  myself.  When  one  knows  the  disease  then 
it  is  not  difficult  to  search  for  the  cure.  I  know  how 
the  effect  was  produced,  and  further,  I  know  the  name 
of  the  medical  man  who  has  effected  cures  in  similar 
cases." 

"  You  do  ?  "  she  exclaimed  eagerly.  "  Well,  Gabrielle 
has  seen  a  dozen  specialists,  all  of  whom  have  been 
puzzled." 

"  Professor  Gourbeil,  of  Lyons,  has  been  able  to  gain 
complete  cures  in  two  cases.  Orosin,  a  newly  discovered 
poison,  is  the  drug  that  was  used,  and  the  Professor  has 
a  wider  knowledge  of  the  effect  of  that  highly  dangerous 
substance  than  any  person  living.  You  should  arrange 
to  take  your  daughter  to  him." 


246        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

The  pale-faced  widow  shook  her  head,  and  in  a  mourn- 
ful tone,  replied : 

"  Ah !  I  am  afraid  it  would  be  useless.  Doctor  Moroni 
took  her  to  several  specialists,  but  they  all  failed  to  re- 
store her  brain  to  its  normal  activity." 

"  Professor  Gourbeil  is  the  only  man  who  has  ever 
been  able  to  completely  cure  a  person  to  whom  orosin 
has  been  administered — and  that  has  been  in  two  cases 
only." 

"  So  the  chance  is  very  remote,  even  if  she  saw  him," 
exclaimed  the  widow  despairingly. 

"  I  think,  Mrs.  Tennison,  that  Gabrielle  should  see  him 
in  any  case,"  I  said. 

"  I  agree.  The  poor  girl's  condition  is  most  pitiable. 
At  times  she  seems  absolutely  normal,  and  talks  of  things 
about  her  in  quite  a  reasonable  manner.  But  she  never 
seems  able  to  concentrate  her  thoughts.  They  always 
wander  swiftly  from  one  subject  to  another.  I  have 
noticed,  too,  that  her  vision  is  affected.  Sometimes  she 
will  declare  that  a  vivid  red  is  blue.  When  we  look  into 
shop  windows  together  she  will  refer  to  a  yellow  dress 
as  mauve,  a  pink  as  white.  At  times  she  cannot  dis- 
tinguish colours.  Yet  now  and  then  her  vision  becomes 
quite  normal." 

"  I  have  had  some  difficulty,  Mrs.  Tennison,  in  that  way 
myself,"  I  said.  "  When  I  first  left  St.  Malo,  after  re- 
covering consciousness  of  the  present,  I  one  day  saw  a 
grass  field  and  it  appeared  to  be  bright  blue.  Again,  an 
omnibus  in  London  which  I  knew  to  be  blue  was  a 
peculiar  dull  red.  So  my  symptoms  were  the  same  as 
your  daughter's." 

"  It  seems  proved  that  both  of  you  are  fellow-vic- 
tims of  some  desperate  plot,  Mr.  Garfield,"  said  the 
widow.  "  But  what  could  have  been  its  motive?" 


GABRIELLE  AT  HOME  247 

"That  I  am  striving  with  all  my  might  to  establish," 
I  answered.  "  If  I  can  only  obtain  from  your  daughter 
the  true  facts  concerning  her  adventures  on  that  fatal 
night  last  November,  then  it  will  materially  assist  me 
towards  fixing  the  guilt  upon  the  person  I  suspect.  In 
this  I  beg  your  aid,  Mrs.  Tennison,"  I  said.  "  I  have 
only  just  returned  from  several  weeks  abroad,  dur- 
ing which  I  have  gained  considerable  knowledge  which  in 
the  end  will,  I  hope,  lead  me  to  the  solution  of  the  prob- 
lem." 

I  then  told  her  of  my  journey  to  Spain  and  afterwards 
to  Nimes.  But  I  mentioned  nothing  concerning  either 
Oswald  De  Gex  or  Despujol. 

At  that  moment  Gabrielle,  unaware  of  my  presence, 
entered.  She  was  dressed  in  a  simple  grey  frock  with 
short  sleeves  and  cut  discreetly  low,  and  looked  very 
sweet.  On  seeing  me  she  drew  back,  but  next  second 
she  put  out  her  slim  white  hand  in  greeting,  and  with 
a  delightful  smile,  exclaimed : 

"  Why — why,  Mr.  Ga'rfield  !  I — I  remember  you !  You 
called  upon  me  some  weeks  ago — did  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Tennison,  I  did,"  I  replied  as  I  sprang  from 
my  chair  and  bent  over  her  hand.  "  So  you  recollect 
me— eh?" 

"  I  do.  They  said  that  you  would  call  upon  me,"  she 
replied,  her  beautiful  face  suddenly  clouding. 

"  Who  told  you  that  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Doctor  Moroni.  He  warned  me  that  you  were  my 
enemy." 

I  drew  a  long  breath,  for  I  discerned  the  depth  of 
the  plot. 

"  Not  your  enemy,  Miss  Tennison,"  I  assured  her. 
"  But  your  friend — your  friend  who  is  trying  his  best 
to  solve  the  problem  of  your — your  illness." 


248        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  Yes,  Gabrielle,  dear,  Mr.  Garfield  is  certainly  your 
friend.  I  know  that,"  declared  her  mother  kindly.  "  Doc- 
tor Moroni  must  have  been  mistaken.  Why  should  he 
have  warned  you  against  meeting  Mr.  Garfield  ?  " 

I  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  I  said : 

"  Of  course,  Mrs.  Tennison,  you  have  no  previous 
knowledge  of  me.  You  are  taking  me  entirely  at  my  own 
estimation." 

"  When  I  meet  a  young  man  who  is  open  and  frank 
as  you  are,  I  trust  him,"  she  said  quietly.  "  You  know 
that  woman's  intuition  seldom  errs." 

I  laughed. 

"  Well,"  I  answered.  "  I  am  striving  to  solve  the 
mystery  of  what  occurred  on  the  night  of  November 
the  seventh — of  what  occurred  to  your  daughter,  as  well 
as  to  myself." 

Mrs.  Tennison  endeavoured  to  obtain  from  me  a 
description  of  my  adventure,  but  I  managed  to  evade  her 
questions. 

"  I  wonder  why  Doctor  Moroni  warned  Gabrielle 
against  you  ?  "  she  remarked  presently.  "  It  is  a  mystery." 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Tennison,  it  is  all  a  mystery — a  complete 
mystery  to  me  why  Doctor  Moroni,  of  all  men,  should 
take  an  interest  in  your  daughter.  He  is  certainly  not 
a  man  to  be  trusted,  and  I,  in  turn,  warn  you  against 
him." 

"  Why  ?    He  has  been  so  good  to  Gabrielle." 

"  The  reason  of  my  warning  is  that  he  is  her  enemy 
as  well  as  mine,"  I  said,  glancing  at  the  beautiful  girl, 
whose  countenance  had,  alas!  now  grown  inanimate 
again. 

"  But  I  do  not  understand,"  Mrs.  Tennison  exclaimed. 
"  Why  should  the  doctor  be  Gabrielle's  enemy  ?  " 

"  Ah !     That  I  cannot  tell — except  that  he  fears  lest 


GABRIELLE  AT  HOME  249 

she  should  recover  and  reveal  the  truth — a  serious  truth 
which  would  implicate  him." 

"  Do  you  think  he  had  any  hand  in  the  mysterious 
affair?" 

"  I  certainly  do,"  was  my  reply,  and  then  I  told  her  of 
my  journey  to  Italy,  and  of  my  discovery  of  her  daughter 
with  Moroni  in  Florence. 

"  But  how  did  you  know  my  daughter  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Because  on  that  fatal  night  I  saw  her  in  a  house  in 
London." 

"You  saw  her!    Where?" 

"  In  the  house  of  a  mutual  enemy." 

"Who?" 

"  Mrs.  Tennison,"  I  exclaimed  quietly.  "  At  present 
I  cannot  reveal  to  you  more  than  I  have  done.  Please 
excuse  me.  When  I  have  fully  verified  my  suspicions  I 
will  explain  all  that  occurred  to  me — all  that  is  within  my 
knowledge.  Until  then,  please  remain  in  patience." 

"  I  never  dreamed  that  Gabrielle  had  a  single  enemy 
in  the  world.  I  cannot  understand  it,"  she  exclaimed. 

"  Neither  can  I,  but  the  fact  remains.  The  greatest 
care  should  be  exercised  regarding  your  daughter.  Why 
did  she  meet  that  Frenchman  in  Kensington  Gardens  ?  " 

"  I  have  only  just  heard  about  it,"  was  her  mother's 
reply.  "  It  appears  that  Doctor  Moroni  introduced  them. 
She  had  only  seen  him  once  before." 

Then,  turning  to  the  girl,  her  mother  asked : 

"  What  did  he  say  to  you  ?  " 

"  He  brought  me  an  urgent  and  secret  message  from 
Doctor  Moroni,  telling  me  that  there  was  a  plot  against 
my  life,"  she  replied  in  a  slow,  mechanical  voice.  "  The 
doctor  sent  word  to  me  that  Mr.  Garfield  would  probably 
call  and  endeavour  to  be  friendly  with  me,  but  that  he 
was  my  enemy,  and  I  should  have  no  dealings  with  him." 


250        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  Ah !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  So  that  was  the  second  warning 
given  you,  Miss  Tennison !  It  is  more  than  ever  plain  that 
they  fear  lest,  by  meeting,  we  shall  discover  the  plot  and 
its  instigators.  What  else  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  He  told  me  that  Doctor  Moroni  was  still  in  Florence, 
but  that  he  would  be  coming  to  London  again  very  soon, 
and  that  he  would  call.  He  urged  me  at  the  same  time 
to  tell  nobody  that  he  had  seen  me,  or  that  he  had  warned 
me  against  you — not  even  my  mother." 

"  All  that  is  in  no  way  surprising,"  I  remarked,  "  for 
I  happen  to  know  that  Monsieur  Suzor  and  the  doctor  are 
on  terms  of  closest  friendship — a  partnership  for  evil." 

"How?" 

"  As  I  have  already  explained,  Miss  Tennison,  I  have 
not  yet  fully  solved  the  enigma,  though  I  have  learned 
a  number  of  facts  which,  though  they  increase  the  mys- 
tery, yet  they  give  some  clue  to  the  solution  of  the 
enigma." 

"  But  their  evil  design  ?  "  asked  her  mother. 

"  Their  evil  design  is  against  us  both,  hence  your 
daughter's  interests  have  become  my  own,"  I  replied. 
"  My  sole  object  is  to  bring  to  justice  those  who  have, 
for  their  own  ends — no  doubt  for  financial  gain — been 
guilty  of  the  astounding  plot  against  your  daughter.  You 
may  believe  Doctor  Moroni  and  his  friend  Suzor  as  you 
will,  Mrs.  Tennison,  but  I  shall  not  withdraw  from  my 
present  attitude.  That  they  fear  me  is  conclusively 
proved." 

"  I  quite  see  your  point,"  said  the  quiet-voiced,  refined 
lady. 

"  Then  I  do  urge  you  to  have  a  care  of  Miss  Gabrielle," 
I  exclaimed.  "  If  it  is  known,  as  it  may  be,  that  I  have 
been  here,  an  effort  will  surely  be  made  to  close  the  mouth 
of  one  or  other  of  us.  These  men  are  desperate.  I 


GABRIELLE  AT  HOME  251 

have  already  proved  them  so.     Therefore  we  must  take 
every  precaution  against  surprise." 

"  Why  not  go  to  the  police  ?  "  suggested  Mrs.  Tennison. 

"  Because  the  whole  circumstances  are  so  strange  that, 
if  I  related  them  at  Scotland  Yard,  I  should  not  be 
believed,"  was  my  reply.  "  No.  I,  with  my  friend 
Mr.  Hambledon,  must  carry  on  our  inquiries  alone.  If 
we  are  sufficiently  wary  and  active  we  may,  I  hope,  gather 
sufficient  evidence  to  elucidate  the  mystery  of  your 
daughter's  present  mental  condition,  and  also  the  reason 
why  a  similar  attempt  was  made  upon  myself." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Garfield,"  exclaimed  the  charming,  elderly 
lady  with  a  sigh,  "I  only  hope  you  will  be  successful  in 
your  quest  after  the  truth.  This  blow  upon  me  is,  I 
confess,  a  most  terrible  one.  It  is  so  distressing  to  see 
my  poor  child  in  such  an  uncertain  state  of  mentality. 
Sometimes,  as  I  have  told  you,  she  is  quite  normal,  though 
she  has  no  knowledge  of  what  occurred  to  her.  And 
at  other  times  she  is  painfully  vague  and  often  erratic  in 
her  actions." 

"  She  must  consult  Professor  Gourbeil,  the  great  alien- 
ist, at  Lyons.  He  has  a  wide  knowledge  of  the  symptoms 
and  effects  of  orosin." 

The  poor  lady  sighed,  and  with  tired,  sad  eyes  looked 
upon  her  daughter,  who  had  sunk  into  a  chair  with  her 
pointed  chin  resting  upon  her  palms. 

"  Unfortunately,  Mr.  Garfield,  I  am  not  rich,"  she  said 
in  a  low  earnest  tone.  "  I  will  give  most  willingly  all  I 
possess  in  order  that  my  poor  child  be  restored  to  her 
normal  senses.  But  I  have  very  little  in  these  post-war 
days,  when  everything  is  so  dear,  and  taxation  strangles 
one,  in  face  of  what  they  told  us  during  the  war  that 
they  were  making  England  a  place  fit  for  heroes  to  live 


252         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

in!    It  seems  to  me  that  they  are  now  making  it  fit  for 
Germans  and  aliens  to  live  in." 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Tennison,  our  discussion  does  not 
concern  politics,"  I  said,  anxious  for  the  future  of  the 
graceful  girl  whom  I  had  grown  to  love  so  dearly,  even 
though  her  brain  was  unbalanced.  At  first  I  regarded  it 
as  strange  that  being  fellow-victims  of  Oswald  De  Gex 
and  his  desperate,  unscrupulous  accomplices — who  in- 
cluded the  assassin  Despujol — I  had  been  drawn  towards 
her  by  some  unknown  and  invisible  attraction.  But  when 
I  analysed  my  feelings  and  surveyed  the  situation  calmly 
I  saw  that  it  was  not  more  extraordinary  than  in  any 
other  circumstances  when  a  man,  seeing  a  woman  who 
fulfils  all  his  high  ideals,  falls  desperately  in  love  with  her 
and  worships  at  her  shrine. 


CHAPTER  THE  TWENTY-THIRD 

THE  DEATH-DRUG 

IT  was  July. 

The  London  season,  later  in  these  modern  days,  was 
already  on  the  wane.  The  Derby  and  Ascot  had  been 
won,  in  glorious  weather.  There  had  been  splendid 
cricket  at  Lord's,  fine  polo  at  Hurlingham,  and  Henley 
Week  had  just  passed.  London  Society  was  preparing 
for  the  country,  the  Continental  Spas,  and  the  sea,  leav- 
ing the  metropolis  to  the  American  cousins  who  were  each 
week  invading  London's  big  hotels. 

I  was  back  at  Francis  and  Goldsmith's  hard  at  work 
as  I  had  been  before  my  strange  adventure,  while  Harry 
was  busy  at  his  legal  work  in  the  police  courts. 

From  our  windows  looking  across  the  Thames  between 
the  trees  on  the  towing  path  we  had  a  wide  view  of 
the  river  with  the  chimneys  of  the  factories  on  the  op- 
posite bank.  On  the  right  was  Putney,  the  starting 
place  of  the  University  Boat  Race,  and  on  the  left  the 
great  reservoirs  and  the  bend  of  the  river  behind  which 
lay  Mortlake,  the  finish  of  the  boat-race  course.  Each 
morning,  when  I  rose  and  dressed,  I  looked  out  upon  the 
wide  and  somewhat  uninteresting  vista,  racking  my  brains 
how  to  further  proceed  with  my  campaign  against  the 
great  intriguer  who  could,  by  his  immense  wealth,  juggle 
with  dynasties. 

With  Mrs.  Tennison  I  had  become  on  very  friendly 
terms.  Fearing  to  reveal  myself  as  having  taken  that 
bundle  of  Bank  of  England  notes  as  a  bribe,  I  held  back 

253 


254         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

from  her  what  had  actually  happened  to  me  on  that 
fateful  night.  But  I  had  become  a  frequent  guest  at 
Longridge  Road,  and  often  spent  many  delightful  hours 
with  Gabrielle,  who  at  times  seemed  quite  in  her  normal 
senses. 

Yet,  at  others,  she  became  vague  and  spoke  in  awed 
tones  about  what  she  had  seen — "  all  red,  green  and 
gold."  And  often  I  sat  at  home  smoking  and  wondering 
what  she  had  seen  that  had  so  impressed  her.  Often, 
too,  I  discussed  it  with  Mrs.  Tennison  and  with  Harry 
Hambledon,  but  neither  of  us  could  suggest  any  solution 
of  the  mystery. 

Mrs.  Tennison,  on  account  of  the  slump  in  securities 
owing  to  the  war,  was,  I  knew,  in  rather  straitened  cir- 
cumstances. When  I  again  suggested  a  visit  to  the  great 
specialist  in  Lyons  she  shook  her  head,  and  told  me 
frankly  that  she  could  not  afford  it.  De  Gex  had,  it 
seemed,  sought  his  victims  among  those  who  had  been 
ruined  by  the  war. 

She  had,  however,  told  me  that  her  brother,  a  shipping 
agent  living  in  Liverpool,  who  was  Gabrielle's  godfather, 
was  deeply  interested  in  her. 

I  suggested  that  she  should  write  to  him  and  urge 
that,  as  a  last  resort,  Gabrielle  should  consult  Professor 
Gourbeil.  The  latter  had  been  successful  in  restoring  to 
their  normal  mental  condition  patients  who  had  been  in- 
fected with  orosin,  that  most  dangerous  and  puzzling  of 
the  discoveries  of  modern  toxicologists. 

Mrs.  Tennison  had  acted  upon  my  advice.  Had  I 
been  in  a  financial  position  to  pay  Gabrielle's  expenses  to 
Lyons  I  would  have  done  so  most  willingly.  But  my 
journey  to  Spain  had  depleted  my  resources,  and  though 
I  had  those  Bank  of  England  notes  still  reposing  in  a 
drawer  at  home,  I  dared  not  change  one  of  them  lest  by 


THE  DEATH-DRUG  255 

such  action  I  should  have  accepted  and  profited  upon 
the  bribe  which  De  Gex  had  so  cleverly  pressed  upon  me. 

In  the  first  week  of  July  Mrs.  Tennison  wrote  to  me, 
and  that  evening  I  went  over  to  see  her  after  leaving  the 
office  in  Westminster. 

It  was  a  hot  dry  night  when  London  lay  beneath  its 
haze  of  sun-reddened  dust  after  a  heat  spell,  parched 
and  choked. 

Gabrielle  was  out  at  the  house  of  one  of  her  school 
friends,  hence,  we  sat  alone  together  in  the  cool  drawing- 
room — a  room  which  was  essentially  that  of  a  woman  of 
taste  and  refinement. 

A  few  seconds  after  I  had  entered,  a  tall,  grey-haired 
man  came  in,  whereupon  Mrs.  Tennison  introduced  him 
as  her  brother  Charles  from  Liverpool. 

The  man  glanced  at  me  sharply,  and  then,  smiling 
pleasantly,  took  my  hand. 

"  I  have  come  up  to  see  my  sister  regarding  poor 
Gabrielle,"  he  said,  when  we  were  seated.  "  I  understand 
that  you  have  experienced  similar  symptoms  to  hers,  and 
have  recovered." 

"  I  have  not  completely  recovered,"  I  replied.  "  Often 
I  have  little  recurrences  of  lapse  of  memory  for  periods 
from  a  few  moments  to  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

"  My  sister  has  told  me  that  you  believe  that  poor 
Gabrielle  and  yourself  are  fellow-victims  of  some  plot." 

"  I  am  certain  of  it,  Mr.  Maxwell,"  I  replied.  "  And 
I  have  already  devoted  considerable  time  and  more 
money  than  I  could  really  afford  in  an  attempt  to  solve 
the  mystery  of  it  all." 

"  Can  you  explain  the  whole  circumstances?  "  he  asked. 
'*  I  am  deeply  interested  in  my  unfortunate  niece." 

"  I  can  relate  to  you  a  'few  of  the  facts  if  you  wish 
to  hear  them,"  was  my  reply.  I  certainly  had  no  inten- 


256        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

tion  of  telling  him  all  that  I  knew,  or  of  the  death  and 
cremation  of  the  mysterious  Gabrielle  Engledue — who- 
ever she  might  have  been. 

So  I  explained  practically  what  I  had  told  his  sister. 
I  also  described  how  Professor  Vega  at  Madrid  had 
told  me  of  the  two  cures  effected  by  Professor  Gourbeil, 
of  Lyons. 

"  My  sister  tells  me  that  you  suggest  Gabrielle  should 
consult  him,"  Mr.  Maxwell  said.  "  But  she  has  con- 
sulted so  many  specialists.  Doctor  Moroni  has  been  most 
kind  to  her.  He  took  her  to  doctors  in  Paris  and  in  Italy, 
but  they  could  do  nothing." 

"  Well,  I  think  that  as  Professor  Gourbeil  has  cured 
two  persons  of  the  deadly  effects  of  the  drug  Miss  Tenni- 
son  should  see  him,"  I  remarked. 

"  I  quite  agree.  It  is  for  that  reason  I  have  come  to 
London,"  he  said.  "  I  understand  that  you,  Mr.  Garfield, 
take  a  personal  interest  in  my  niece,  therefore  I  want  to 
ask  you  a  favour — namely,  that  if  I  pay  the  expenses 
would  you  accompany  my  sister  and  her  daughter  to 
Lyons?" 

"  Willingly.  But  I  will  pay  my  own  expenses,  please," 
was  my  prompt  reply. 

At  first  he  would  not  hear  of  it,,  until  I  declined  to  go 
unless  I  went  independently,  and  then  we  arranged  for 
our  departure. 

Four  days  later  we  descended  at  the  big  busy  Perrache 
station  at  Lyons  from  the  lumbering  rapide  which  had 
brought  us  from  Paris,  and  entered  the  Terminus  Hotel 
which  adjoins  the  platform.  Later,  from  the  concierge, 
we  found  that  Professor  Gourbeil  of  the  Facultes  des 
Sciences  et  de  Medecine,  lived  in  the  Avenue  Felix  Faure, 
and  I  succeeded  over  the  telephone  in  making  an  appoint- 
ment with  him  for  the  following  day  at  noon. 


THE  DEATH-DRUG     ,  257 

This  I  kept,  going  to  him  alone  in  order  to  explain 
matters. 

I  found  him  to  be  a  short,  florid-faced  man  with  a 
shock  of  white  hair  and  a  short  white  beard.  His  house 
was  a  rather  large  one  standing  back  in  a  well-kept  gar- 
den full  of  flowers,  and  the  room  in  which  he  received  me 
was  shaded  and  cool. 

I  told  him  of  Professor  Vega's  recommendation,  where- 
upon he  exclaimed  in  French: 

"  Ah !  I  know  Professor  Vega.  We  met  last  year 
at  our  conference  in  Paris — a  very  brilliant  man !  " 

Then,  as  briefly  as  I  could,  I  explained  how  the  deadly 
drug  orosin  had  been  surreptitiously  administered  to 
Gabrielle  and  myself,  and  its  effects  upon  us  both. 

"  Orosin ! "  exclaimed  the  old  savant,  raising  his  thin 
hands.  "  Ah !  There  is  not  much  hope  of  the  lady's 
recovery.  I  have  known  of  only  two  cases  within  my  ex- 
perience. The  effect  of  orosin  upon  the  human  brain  is 
mysterious  and  lasting.  It  produces  a  state  of  the  brain- 
cells  with  which  we  cannot  cope.  A  larger  dose  pro- 
duces strong  homicidal  tendencies  and  inevitable  death, 
and  a  still  larger  dose  almost  instantaneous  death." 

I  told  him  how  we  both  had  lost  all  sense  of  our  sur- 
roundings for  weeks,  and  how  we  were  both  found  at 
the  roadside,  she  in  Hampshire  and  I  in  France. 

"  You  were  both  victims  of  some  plot ;  that  is  evident. 
Of  course  you  have  invoked  the  aid  of  the  police?" 

I  did  not  reply.  I  certainly  feared  to  seek  the  assistance 
of  Scotland  Yard. 

He  explained  to  me  practically  what  Professor  Vega 
had  done  regarding  orosin  and  its  terrible  effect. 

"  There  have  been  other  cases  of  its  administration," 
said  the  great  alienist.  "  Somebody  must  be  preparing 
the  drug  and  selling  it  for  sinister  purposes.  Though  it 


258         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

is  so  little  known  as  yet  that  its  manufacturer  must  be 
an  expert  toxicologist  with  special  knowledge." 

"  Have  you  seen  many  cases  of  its  administration  ?  " 
I  asked  eagerly. 

"  Yes.  Quite  a  number,"  was  the  old  Professor's  reply. 
"  I  am  in  communication  with  Doctor  Duroc,  of  the 
Salpetriere  in  Paris,  and  together  we  are  keeping  a  record 
of  the  cases  where  orosin  is  administered  by  some  mys- 
terious hand.  Whose,  we  have  no  idea.  We  leave  that 
to  the  Surete.  But  you  say  that  your  adventure  and  that 
of  mademoiselle  occurred  in  London  ? " 

I  repeated  my  story.    Then  I  ventured  to  ask: 

"  Do  you,  Professor,  know  anything  of  a  Doctor 
Moroni,  of  Florence  ?  " 

The  white-bearded,  shock-haired  man  reflected  for  a 
moment,  and  then  moving  in  his  chair,  replied: 

"I  fancy  I  have  heard  his  name.  Moroni — Moroni? 
Yes,  I  am  sure  someone  has  mentioned  him." 

"  As  a  toxicologist  ?  " 

"  Probably.  I  do  not  really  remember.  I  believe  I 
met  him  at  one  of  the  conferences  in  Paris  or  Geneva. 
He  was  with  one  of  your  English  professors — one  of 
your  medico-legists  whose  name,  at  the  moment  escapes 
my  memory.  He  gave  evidence  in  that  curious  case  of 
alleged  poison  at  the  Old  Bailey,  in  London,  a  year 
ago." 

"  But  is  Doctor  Moroni  known  as  an  expert  in  poison  ?  " 

"  Not  to  my  personal  knowledge.  Possibly  he  is,  and 
I  have  heard  his  name  in  that  connexion.  Why  do  you 
ask?" 

"  Because  he  has  had  my  friend  Miss  Tennison  under 
his  care.  He  has  taken  her  to  see  several  specialists  in 
Italy."  Then  in  a  sudden  burst  of  confidence  I  told  him 
of  my  great  love  for  the  girl  who,  like  myself,  had  been 
attacked  in  secret.  Further,  I  told  him  that  the  reason  of 


THE  DEATH-DRUG  259 

my  steady  inquiry  was  in  her  interests,  as  well  as  in  my 
own. 

"  My  dear  Monsieur  Garfield,  now  that  you  are  so 
frank  with  me  I  will  do  my  utmost  in  the  interests  of  both 
of  you,"  declared  the  dear  old  Professor,  as  he  rose  and 
crossed  to  the  window.  "  What  you  have  told  me  in- 
terests me  intensely.  I  see  by  your  travels  to  Spain  and 
the  South  that  you  are  leaving  no  stone  unturned  to  arrive 
at  a  true  solution  of  the  problem — and  I  will  help  you. 
O  rosin  is  the  least  known  and  most  dangerous  drug  that 
has  ever  been  discovered  in  our  modern  civilization. 
Used  with  evil  intent  it  is  unsuspected  and  wellnigh  un- 
discoverable,  for  the  symptoms  often  resemble  those  of 
certain  diseases  of  the  brain.  The  person  to  whom  the 
drug  is  administered  either  exhibits  an  exhilaration  akin 
to  undue  excess  of  alcohol,  or  else  the  functions  of  the 
brain  are  entirely  distorted,  with  a  complete  loss  of 
memory  or  a  chronic  aberration  of  the  brain." 

"  That  is  the  case  of  my  friend  Miss  Tennison,"  I 
said. 

"  Very  well.  I  will  see  her  and  endeavour  to  do 
what  I  can  to  restore  her,"  said  the  elegant  old  French 
savant.  "  But,  remember,  I  hold  out  no  hope.  In  all 
cases  orosin  destroys  the  brain.  It  seems  to  "create  a 
slow  degeneracy  of  the  cells  which  nobody  yet  can  under- 
stand. We  know  the  effect,  but  we  cannot,  up  to  the 
present,  combat  it.  There  are  yet  many  things  in  human 
life  of  which  the  medical  men  are  in  as  complete  ignorance 
as  those  who  study  electricity  and  radio-frequencies.  We 
try  to  do  our  best  to  the  extent  of  our  knowledge,  my 
dear  monsieur.  And  if  you  will  bring  Mademoiselle  to 
me  to-morrow  at  three  o'clock  I  will  try  to  make  my 
diagnosis." 

I  thanked  him  for  his  perfectly  open  declaration,  and 
then  I  left.  That  he  was  the  greatest  living  authority 


260        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

on  the  symptoms  and  effect  of  the  mysterious  drug  orosin 
I  felt  confident.  I  only  longed  that  he  would  take  Gab- 
rielle  beneath  his  charge  and  endeavour  to  restore  her 
brain  to  its  normal  function. 

Punctually  at  three  o'clock  next  day  I  called  with  my 
beloved  and  her  mother  at  the  house  embowered  in 
roses  and  geraniums  up  on  the  hill  above  the  broad 
Rhone  river. 

We  were  ushered  in  by  an  old  man-servant,  silent  and 
stately. 

The  Professor  quickly  appeared,  his  sharp  eyes  upon 
the  patient. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  will  allow  me,  Madame,  to  take  your 
daughter  into  my  consulting-room  alone  ?  "  he  asked  in 
good  English.  "  It  will  be  best  for  me  to  question  her 
without  any  other  person  being  present." 

"  Most  certainly,"  Mrs.  Tennison  replied.  Then,  turn- 
ing to  Gabrielle,  she  said :  "  The  Professor  wants  to  put 
a  few  questions  to  you,  dear.  Will  you  go  with  him  into 
the  next  room  ?  " 

Gabrielle,  pale-faced  and  tragic,  looked  at  me  strangely, 
and  then  meekly  followed  the  old  Professor  into  his 
consulting-room. 

The  door  was  closed,  and  Mrs.  Tennison  waited  with 
me  in  silence.  The  window  of  the  room  was  open  and 
through  it  came  the  sweet  scent  of  the  roses  and  climbing 
jasmine,  with  the  buzz  of  the  summer  insects  and  the 
chatter  of  the  birds,  for  the  house  was  high  up  on  that 
hill  above  the  great  silk-weaving  capital  of  the  Rhone. 

I  rose  and  looked  out  upon  the  garden,  so  well  ordered, 
for  the  Professor  was,  it  seemed,  a  lover  of  roses,  the  blos- 
soms running  riot  everywhere. 

Suddenly,  as  we  remained  in  silence,  we  heard  Gab- 
rielle's  voice  raised  until  she  shouted  fierce  defiant  words 
in  English: 


THE  DEATH-DRUG  261 

"  No !  "  she  shrieked.  "  It  was  not  that — not  that !  You 
try  and  fix  upon  me  a  deed  that  I  did  not  do!  Why 
should  you  do  this — why  should  you  do  this !  " 

"  Pardon,  Mademoiselle,"  we  heard  the  Professor  say 
in  a  quiet,  calm  tone.  "  Pardon.  Please !  I  do  not 
allege  it.  I  have  only  asked  a  simple  question." 

"  Your  question  is  insulting,  doctor ! "  declared  my 
beloved  loudly.  "  Why  should  you  insinuate  such  a 
thing?" 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  insinuate  nothing,"  replied  the  Pro- 
fessor. "  I  am  endeavouring  to  ascertain  the  exact  state 
of  your  mental  balance.  Your  anger  is,  in  itself,  a  most 
gratifying  feature.  A  thousand  pardons  if  you  feel  that 
I  have  insulted  you,"  he  added  with  the  extreme  polite- 
ness of  his  race. 

Then,  through  the  folding  doors  which  divided  the 
apartments,  we  heard  him  say : 

"  Will  you  please  give  me  both  your  hands,  and  look 
directly  into  my  eyes  ?  " 

There  was  a  silence. 

We  could  hear  the  Professor  sigh,  but  he  made  no 
comment. 

His  examination  occupied  nearly  an  hour.  He  put 
to  her  many  searching  questions  in  an  endeavour  to  re- 
store her  memory  as  to  what  happened,  but  without  avail. 
Those  questions  seemed  to  perturb  her,  for  of  a  sudden 
she  cried  loudly,  indeed  she  almost  shrieked  in  terror: 

"  Ah !  no !  no !  Save  me  !  "  she  implored.  "  I — I  can't 
stand  it!  I  can't — I  really  can't  See!  Look!  Look! 
There  it  is  again — all  red,  green  and  gold ! — all  red,  green 
and  gold!" 

And  we  could  hear  her  expressions  of  fear  as  she 
gazed  upon  some  imaginary  object  which  held  her  ter- 
rified. 

We  heard  the  kindly  old  Professor  putting  many  ques- 


262        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

tions  to  her  in  an  endeavour  to  discover  what  gave  rise 
to  that  nameless  horror  which  she  so  often  experienced, 
but  her  replies  were  most  vague.  She  seemed  unable  to 
describe  the  chimera  of  her  imagination.  Yet  it  was  only 
too  plain  that  on  that  fatal  night  she  had  seen  something 
bearing  those  colours  which  had  so  impressed  itself  upon 
her  mind  as  distinctly  horrible  that  it  constantly  recurred 
to  her. 

Yet  she  was  unable  to  describe  it,  owing  to  her  mental 
aberration. 

Time  after  time,  she  implored  the  Professor's  protec- 
tion from  some  imaginary  peril,  and  time  after  time,  after 
she  had  begged  him  to  remain  near  her,  she  repeated  those 
mysterious  and  meaningless  words : 

"  Red,  green  and  gold  ! — red,  green  and  gold !  " 

In  breathless  anxiety  we  listened,  but  all  we  could  hear 
were  the  Professor's  sighs  of  despair,  which  meant  far 
more  to  Mrs.  Tennison  and  myself  than  any  of  his  words 
could  convey. 

We  knew  that  upon  poor  Gabrielle,  the  girl  I  loved  with 
all  my  heart  and  soul,  the  deadly  drug  had  done  its  work 
— and  that  she  was,  alas  !  incurable ! 

Her  case  was  hopeless,  even  in  the  hands  of  the  one 
man  in  all  Europe  who  knew  the  effects  of  orosin  and 
had  only  in  two  cases  effected  cures. 

I  looked  at  her  mother  in  silence.  She  knew  my 
thoughts,  for  tears  were  now  coursing  down  her  pale 
cheeks. 

Both  of  us  knew  the  worst.  Our  journey  had  been  in 
vain. 

That  thought  caused  me  to  grit  my  teeth  against  De 
Gex  and  his  unholy  hirelings.  I  would  follow  and  un- 
mask them.  I  would  avenge  the  innocent  girl  whom  I 
loved  so  dearly,  even  though  it  should  cost  me  my  life ! 


CHAPTER  THE  TWENTY-FOURTH 

YET  ANOTHER  MYSTERY 

THE  first  week  in  August  was  unusually  hot  and  dry  in 
London. 

Gabrielle  and  Mrs.  Tennison  had  remained  in  Lyons, 
for  Professor  Gourbeil  had  suggested  that  his  patient 
should,  as  a  desperate  resource,  remain  under  his  treat- 
ment for  a  few  weeks.  He  gave  practically  no  hope  of 
her  recovery.  The  dose  of  orosin  that  had  been  admin- 
istered was,  he  declared,  a  larger  one  than  that  which 
De  Gex  had  introduced  into  my  drink  on  that  night  of 
horrors. 

The  effect  upon  me  had  been  to  muddle  my  brain  so 
that  I  had  accepted  those  Bank  of  England  notes  as  bribe 
to  assist  the  mystery-man  of  Europe  in  his  foul  and 
mysterious  plot. 

My  companion  Harry  Hambledon  was  still  earning  his 
guineas  at  Hammersmith  Police  Court,  gradually  estab- 
lishing a  reputation.  He  had  bought  a  small  two-seater 
car,  and  each  Sunday  he  took  Norah  out  for  runs  to  the 
Hut  at  Wisley,  to  the  Burford  Bridge  Hotel,  where  the 
genial  Mr.  Hunt — one  of  the  last  remaining  Bohemians 
of  the  days  of  the  Junior  Garrick  Club — welcomed  them ; 
to  the  Wooton  Hatch,  or  up  to  those  more  pretentious 
and  less  comfortable  hostelries  on  Hindhead. 

Motoring  had  roused  a  new  interest  in  my  friend.  I 
loved  the  open  road,  but  with  the  heavy  expenses  I  had 
recently  sustained  I  could  not  afford  it.  Besides,  my  firm 
had  just  secured  a  big  electric  lighting  contract  with  the 

263 


264        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

corporation  of  Chichester,  and  I  was  constantly  travelling 
between  that  city  and  London,  sometimes  by  rail  and 
sometimes  in  Mr.  Francis's  car. 

I  suppose  I  must  have  carried  on  my  work  satisfac- 
torily after  the  generous  leave  the  firm — one  of  those 
stately  old-fashioned  ones  which  have  still  survived  the 
war — had  accorded  me.  But  my  thoughts  were  ever  of 
my  beloved  Gabrielle,  the  beautiful  girl  whom,  though 
her  mind  was  so  strongly  unbalanced,  I  yet  loved  with 
all  the  strength  of  my  being. 

Every  few  days  we  exchanged  letters.  Sometimes  Mrs. 
Tennison  wrote  to  me  from  the  quiet  little  pension  in  the 
Rue  Paul  Bert,  in  Lyons,  but  her  letters  were  always 
despairing.  Poor  Gabrielle  was  just  the  same.  She  still 
had  no  other  vista  in  life  than  her  immediate  one,  and 
she  still  in  her  reflective  moments  gave  vent  to  that 
strange  ejaculation  of  those  mysterious  words:  "Red, 
green  and  gold !  Red,  green  and  gold !  " 

I  confess  that  I  went  about  my  business  in  a  low- 
spirited,  despairing  mood.  More  than  once  I  passed  by 
that  dark  forbidding  house  in  Stretton  Street,  the  blinds 
of  which  were  drawn,  for  ever  since  the  winter  it  had 
been  closed  with  the  caretaker  in,  charge.  Pass  along 
Park  Lane  and  the  Mayfair  neighbourhood  in  August 
and  you  will  see  the  Holland  blinds  drawn  everywhere. 
The  window-boxes  filled  with  geraniums  and  marguerites 
are  drooping,  for  they  have  served  their  turn  and  "  the 
families  "  are  out  of  town,  enjoying  themselves  in  Scot- 
land, in  Norway,  or  at  the  French  Spas.  Honest  Lon- 
doners may  sweat  and  toil  with  their  begrudged  fourteen 
days  at  the  sea  or  in  the  country,  but  Society,  caring 
nothing  for  unhealthy  trades  or  ill-paid  labour,  unless  a 
strike  perchance  affects  their  pockets  or  their  comforts, 
drifts  to  where  it  can  flirt,  dance  or  gamble  amid  gay 


YET  ANOTHER  MYSTERY      265 

surroundings  denied  in  London  by  our  sanctimonious 
kill- joys. 

Whenever  I  passed  along  Stretton  Street  there  spread 
over  my  mind  the  strange  and  inexplicable  events  of  that 
night  when  De  Gex's  man-servant  Horton  had  dashed 
out  after  me,  and  suddenly  implored  me  to  see  his  master. 
Ah !  I  saw  the  amazing  cleverness  of  the  whole  plot — 
a  plot  such  as  could  only  be  conceived  by  a  master  brain. 

De  Gex's  dark,  sinister,  half -Oriental  countenance 
haunted  me  in  my  dreams.  True,  he  was  a  man  who 
swayed  the  finances  of  Europe,  suave,  smiling,  and  with 
an  extremely  polished  and  refined  exterior.  But  why 
Suzor  had  purposely  become  acquainted  with  me,  and  why 
I  had  afterwards  been  enticed  into  that  house  of  tragedy 
were,  in  themselves,  two  points,  the  motive  of  which  I 
failed  to  grasp. 

Late  one  evening  I  passed  the  house,  going  out  of  my 
way  purposely  to  do  so,  when,  to  my  amazement,  I  saw 
standing  upon  the  doorstep,  and  about  to  enter  his  car, 
no  other  person  than  Oswald  De  Gex  himself.  Behind 
him  stood  a  strange  man-servant,  who  at  the  moment 
seemed  to  be  taking  some  instructions. 

In  the  darkness  De  Gex  could  not  distinguish  me. 
Therefore  I  drew  back  and  watched  the  world-famous 
financier  enter  the  car  and  drive  away. 

So  Oswald  De  Gex  was  back  in  London — and  in 
August !  I  had  passed  the  house  on  the  previous  after- 
noon and  seen  that  as  usual  the  faded  Holland  blinds 
were  drawn,  just  as  they  had  been  for  months,  an  indi- 
cation to  callers  that  the  owner  was  away.  I  looked  again. 
The  blinds  were  still  down ! 

Next  day  being  Sunday  I  watched,  and  though  at  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  De  Gex  came  forth  and  strolled 
round  to  his  club  in  St.  James's  Street,  the  blinds  were 


266        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

still  drawn,  it  being  evident  that  the  unscrupulous  man 
who  juggled  with  European  dynasties  was  living  there  in 
obscurity — and  in  pretence  of  absence. 

Why? 

My  watchfulness  was  increased;  my  thoughts  being 
ever  upon  the  avenging  of  the  injury  done  to  the  sweet 
girl  I  so  dearly  loved — that  poor  unfortunate  creature 
whose  brain  had  been  destroyed  by  the  dastardly  adminis- 
tration of  that  poison  only  known  to  students  of  toxi- 
cology. In  my  waking  hours  I  conjured  up  scenes  of  how 
mother  and  daughter,  living  in  that  obscure  pension  in 
busy  Lyons,  went  each  day  to  the  Professor's  house,  and 
how  the  kindly  old  savant  did  his  best  to  restore  her  brain 
to  its  normal  activity. 

One  hot  day  I  had  been  to  Reading  on  business  for  the 
firm,  and  on  arrival  at  Paddington  I  bought  an  evening 
paper  and  took  it  home  to  Rivermead  Mansions.  As 
usual  Harry  and  I  had  dinner  together,  and  after  he  had 
gone  out  to  Richmond,  I  sat  by  the  open  window  which 
looked  upon  the  towing-path  beside  the  Thames,  and 
with  my  pipe  in  my  mouth,  scanned  the  day's  news. 

Of  a  sudden  I  came  across  a  heading  which  attracted 
me,  and  read  as  follows : 

"  The  sudden  death  is  announced,  at  his  house  out- 
side Amsterdam,  of  Baron  Harte  van  Veltrup,  the 
well-known  Dutch  financier,  who  for  some  years  was 
in  active  association  with  the  Spanish  banker,  the 
late  Count  de  Chamartin.  The  Count  died  recently 
in  San  Sebastian  just  after  he,  with  van  Veltrup, 
had  promoted  a  great  railway  scheme  in  Central 
Spain.  The  circumstances  of  the  Baron's  death  ap- 
pear to  be  somewhat  mysterious,  says  our  Amster- 
dam correspondent.  Three  days  ago  the  banker, 


YET  ANOTHER  MYSTERY      267 

who  is  a  widower,  went  to  The  Hague,  where  in  a 
private  room  in  an  obscure  hotel,  he  met  a  man  on 
business.  The  meeting  was  apparently  in  secret, 
f6r  he  told  his  valet  that  he  did  not  wish  anyone  to 
know  of  the  mysterious  visitor  for  a  certain  financial 
reason.  The  man  remained  with  the  Baron  for 
nearly  an  hour,  after  which  the  financier  went  home 
in  his  car  to  Amsterdam,  his  valet  driving.  On  the 
way  the  servant  noticed  that  his  master  seemed  very 
perturbed,  once  or  twice  muttering  threats  beneath 
his  breath. 

"  On  arrival  at  his  house  facing  Vondel  Park,  he 
dressed,  ate  his  dinner  alone,  and  was  about  to  re- 
enter  his  car  to  drive  to  the  Park  Schouwburg,  where 
opera  was  being  given  that  night,  when  he  staggered 
and  fell  just  outside  the  gate,  and  expired  in  a  few 
moments. 

"  Though  a  medical  examination  proved  that  death 
was  due  to  heart  failure,  some  comment  has  been 
caused  by  the  valet's  story  of  his  master's  myster- 
ious visitor  at  The  Hague.  The  latter  he  describes 
as  middle-aged,  writh  a  small  dark  moustache,  a  ruddy 
complexion,  wearing  round  horn-rimmed  spectacles. 
He  thinks  the  latter  were  worn  for  purposes  of  dis- 
guise. 

"  Three  doctors  have,  however,  declared  that  death 
ensued  from  natural  causes,  hence  the  police  discredit 
the  valet's  story.  Baron  van  Veltrup,  who  was  well 
known  in  international  finance,  was  a  frequent  vis- 
itor to  London,  where  he  had  permanent  chambers  in 
Jermyn  Street.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  receiving 
strange  callers — persons  who  probably  gave  him 
secret  information  regarding  Government  concessions 
and  other  such  matters.  Therefore  it  is  not  believed 


268        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

that  the. man  whom  he  met  in  secret  has  any  connex- 
ion with  his  sudden  and  lamented  death.  The  Baron 
contributed  most  generously  to  Dutch  charities, 
especially  to  the  Blinden  Institution,  of  which  he  was 
one  of  the  governors. 

"  Some  of  his  financial  deals  were  of  outstanding 
magnitude.  The  last  loan  to  Peru  was  made  through 
his  house,  in  combination  with  that  of  Chamartin,  in 
Madrid,  while  he  negotiated  a  big  loan  to  Serbia  im- 
mediately before  the  war,  as  well  as  obtaining  the 
concessions  for  two  new  railways  in  Northern  Italy 
and  in  Portugal.  The  reputation  of  the  house  of 
Veltrup  was  one  of  the  highest  standing,  and  the 
Baron's  untimely  death  has  cast  a  gloom  over  finan- 
cial circles  in  all  the  European  capitals." 

I  raised  my  eyes  from  the  paper  and  gazed  across  the 
Thames  now  growing  grey  in  the  evening  light.  Out- 
side, the  soft  wind  whispered  in  the  trees  and  across  the 
long  suspension  bridge  ran  an  endless  stream  of  motor 
traffic  into  and  out  of  London. 

The  affair  in  Amsterdam  was  certainly  curious,  but 
what  attracted  me  most  was  the  fact  that  the  dead  Baron 
had  been  a  partner  with  the  late  Count  Chamartin,  whose 
widow  I  knew  by  sight.  The  Count  had  also  died  very 
suddenly.  So  within  a  short  time  of  each  other  two 
men  whose  names  were  ones  to  conjure  with  in  inter- 
national finance  had  both  died! 

The  valet's  story  I  did  not  doubt.  I  knew  that  such 
men  as  the  late  Baron  were  often  compelled,  in  their  own 
interests,  to  receive  visits  from  mysterious  and  often 
undesirable  persons,  most  of  whom  were  paid  for  their 
information.  Every  giant  of  finance  employs  his  secret 
agents,  whose  duty  it  is  to  keep  his  principal  informed  of 


YET  ANOTHER  MYSTERY  269 

the  various  political  and  other  secrets  in  Europe.  In- 
deed, the  great  financiers  know  more  of  the  underground 
currents  of  foreign  politics  than  they  do  at  any  Em- 
bassy or  Ministry  of  Foreign  Affairs.  It  is  their  duty 
to  know  the  secrets  of  nations — and  they  profit  upon 
their  knowledge. 

I  sat  ruminating.  The  sudden  deaths  of  the  two  pil- 
lars of  finance  was,  to  say  the  least,  a  curious  coinci- 
dence. I  recollected  that  Chamartin  had  been  associated 
with  De  Gex,  and  the  object  of  the  latter's  journey  to 
Madrid  had  apparently  been  to  interview  his  dead 
friend's  widow.  I  also  remembered  Professor  Vega's 
description  of  the  deadly  effect  of  that  secret  poison 
o rosin — that  it  might  cause  almost  instant  death,  and 
that  all  doctors  would  attribute  the  cause  to  heart  fail- 
ure. 

This  caused  me  to  ponder  for  a  long  time.  I  read  and 
re-read  the  report  of  the  Baron's  death,  and  when  I  re- 
tired to  bed — Harry  not  having  yet  returned — I  could 
not  sleep,  so  haunted  was  I  by  vague  suspicions. 

Next  day  I  found  that  I  could  not  apply  myself  to 
work  at  the  office,  so  gave  it  up  and  once  more  wandered 
towards  Hyde  Park  Corner  and  up  Park  Lane  where 
again  I  passed  through  Stretton  Street.  The  blinds  of 
the  big  dark  mansion  were  all  lowered,  indicating  that  its 
owner  was  still  out  of  town.  Yet  I  knew  that  he  was 
living  in  the  half  darkness  of  that  closed  house. 

Why? 

Several  days  passed  when,  unable  to  rest,  I  at  last  asked 
leave  of  absence  from  old  Mr.  Francis,  and  crossed  by 
the  night-boat  from  Harwich  to  the  Hook  of  Holland. 
On  the  following  day  I  found  myself  in  quaint  old  Am- 
sterdam, that  city  built  upon  the  sand  in  defiance  of  a 
certain  text  in  St.  Matthew,  the  city  with  its  great  net- 


270         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

work  of  canals,  and  its  many  gaudily-painted  barges.  As 
I  left  my  hotel  and  walked  to  the  Dam,  the  central  square 
of  the  city,  my  nostrils  were  saluted  upon  one  side  by  the 
perfume  of  the  flowers  adorning  the  windows  and  the 
odour  of  cook-shops,  while  on  the  other  was  the  smell  of 
tar  and  the  fumes  of  the  humble  kitchens  of  sailing  vessels. 

I  happened  to  know  an  Englishman  employed  as  clerk 
to  a  firm  of  Dutch  forwarding  agents  whose  offices  were 
in  the  Dam,  and  this  man,  whose  name  wras  Graham,  I  at 
once  sought. 

We  went  out  to  a  cafe  together,  and  I  explained  the 
object  of  my  visit,  namely,  the  investigation  of  the  death 
of  Baron  van  Veltrup.  Graham  at  once  regarded  me  with 
considerable  astonishment,  for  very  naturally  he  could  not 
make  out  why  I  should  take  such  a  keen  interest  in  the 
death  of  one  of  the  richest  men  in  Holland. 

"  The  Baron  died  of  heart  failure,"  my  friend  said. 
"  The  doctors  are  agreed  upon  that.  His  valet  told  some 
extraordinary  story,  but  no  credence  has  been  placed  in 
it.  There  has  been  a  good  deal  in  the  papers  concerning 
the  unfortunate  affair,  but  the  excitement  has  now  all 
died  down.  The  Baron  was,  I  believe,  buried  yesterday." 

"  I  know  that  there  is  no  suspicion  that  death  was  due 
to  foul  play,  Graham,"  I  said.  "  But  I  confess  that  in 
face  of  certain  knowledge  I  possess  I  am  not  altogether 
satisfied  with  the  doctor's  conclusion." 

My  friend  smiled  incredulously. 

"  At  first,  the  police  were,  I  heard,  inclined  to  suspect 
foul  play.  But  after  full  investigation  they  are  now  quite 
satisfied  as  to  the  cause  of  death." 

"  Be  that  as  it  may,  I  intend  to  make  a  few  discreet 
inquiries,"  I  replied  resolutely.  "  I  want  you,  if  you 
will,  to  assist  me." 

He  smiled  again  in  undisguised  disbelief. 


YET  ANOTHER  MYSTERY  271 

"Of  course  you  are  at  liberty  to  express  your  own 
opinion,"  he  said  with  some  reluctance.  "  And  if  you 
wish,  I  will  assist  you.  But  I  really  think,  Garfield,  that 
you  will  be  only  wasting  your  time — and  mine." 

"  I  hope  not,"  I  assured  him.  "  Were  I  not  in  pos- 
session of  certain  exclusive  information  I  should  not  ven- 
ture to  come  here  from  London  and  trouble  you,  as  I 
am  doing." 

Graham,  whom  I  had  known  for  a  number  of  years, 
looked  very  straight  at  me. 

"  What  is  the  nature  of  this  exclusive  information  ?  " 
he  inquired.  '"  You  are  concealing  something,  Hugh." 

r<  Yes.  I  know  I  am,"  was  my  reply  as  I  smiled  at  him. 
"  I  am  here  to  discover  the  truth  regarding  the  death  of 
Baron  van  Veltrup." 

"  Then  you  suspect  foul  play — eh  ?  "  asked  my  friend. 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  I  replied  in  a  low  voice,  "  and  I  want  you, 
Graham,  to  put  me  in  touch  with  the  Baron's  valet." 

"  He  is  a  man  named  Folcker,  a  Swede,  according  to 
the  newspapers.  I  dare  say  I  could  find  him." 

"  If  you  can,  you  will  assist  me  very  much.  I  must 
have  a  chat  with  him,"  I  said.  "  I  feel  somehow  that  in 
face  of  the  strange  facts  within  my  knowledge  that  he 
can  give  me  the  clue  to  the  cause  of  his  master's  death." 

Graham  smiled.  He  seemed  to  regard  me  as  a  person 
whose  mind  was  not  quite  sound.  But  I  will  give  him  his 
due.  He  propitiated  me,  and  promised  to  get  into  touch 
with  Oscar  Folcker.  By  virtue  of  the  wide  ramifications 
of  the  firm  by  which  Graham  was  employed,  I  knew  that 
it  would  be  an  easy  matter,  hence  I  was  not  surprised 
when  next  day  he  rang  me  up  on  the  telephone  to  my 
hotel  and  told  me  that  he  had  been  able  to  find  the  valet 
Folcker  who  would  call  upon  me  at  six  o'clock  that 
evening. 


CHAPTER  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH 

WHAT  THE  VALET  KNEW 

AT  the  time  appointed,  as  I  stood  in  the  hall,  a  tall,  clean- 
shaven, rather  spruce  young  man  entered  and  spoke  to 
the  concierge,  who  at  once  brought  him  over  to  me. 

I  took  him  into  a  corner  of  the  lounge,  and  when  we 
were  seated  I  told  him  of  my  suspicions  and  my  quest. 

Like  many  Swedes  he  spoke  English,  and  in  reply 
said: 

"  Well,  sir,  I  was  in  the  Baron's  service  for  five  years, 
and  I  knew  his  habits  very  well.  He  was  an  excellent 
master — most  kind  and  generous,  and  with  him  I  have 
travelled  Europe  up  and  down.  We  were  very  often  in 
London,  where  the  Baron  had  bachelor  chambers  in  Jer- 
myn  Street." 

"  I  know  that,"  I  said.  "  But  tell  me  what  you  know, 
and  what  you  suspect  concerning  his  untimely  end." 

"  There  was  foul  play,  sir  I "  he  said  unhesitatingly. 
"  The  Baron  was  a  strong  healthy  man  who  lived  fru- 
gally, and  though  he  dealt  in  millions  of  francs,  yet  he 
was  most  quiet  in  his  habits,  and  his  boast  was  that  he 
was  never  out  of  bed  after  half -past  ten.  Though  very 
rich  he  devoted  nearly  half  his  income  yearly  to  char- 
itable institutions.  I  know  the  extent  of  his  contributions 
to  the  needy,  for  I  have  often  seen  him  draw  the  cheques." 

"  Well — tell  me  exactly  what  happened,"  I  asked. 

"  The  affair  presents  some  very  puzzling  features,  sir," 
he  replied.  "  One  morning,  while  dressing,  my  master 

272 


WHAT  THE  VALET  KNEW  273 

told  me  that  he  had  to  motor  to  The  Hague  as  he  wished 
to  meet  in  strict  secrecy  a  man  who  would  call  to  see  him 
at  a  little  hotel  called  the  Rhijn,  in  the  Oranje  Straat.  He 
asked  me  to  drive  him  there  so  that  Mullard,  the  chauf- 
feur, should  have  no  knowledge  of  the  visit.  This  I 
promised  to  do,  for  I  can  drive  a  car.  We  arrived  early 
in  the  afternoon,  and  the  Baron,  who  was  unknown  at 
the  obscure  little  place,  ordered  lunch  for  us  both.  He 
ate  his  in  the  private  room  he  had  engaged,  and  at  about 
three  o'clock  the  visitor  arrived.  He  inquired  of  the  pro- 
prietor and  was  shown  into  the  Baron's  private  room. 
I  judged  him  to  be  about  forty,  of  middle  height,  well- 
dressed,  and  wearing  big  round  tortoiseshell  glasses,  like 
those  Americans  so  often  wear.  He  was  red-faced  and 
walked  with  a  slight  limp." 

"  And  what  happened  while  your  master  was  with  the 
stranger  ?  " 

"  The  Baron  came  out  and  told  me  to  go  to  the  garage 
with  the  car,  and  I  was  telephoned  for  an  hour  later. 
When  I  met  him  again  he  seemed  to  be  in  an  ill  and  petu- 
lant mood,  for  he  told  me  to  drive  back  to  Amsterdam 
with  all  speed.  He  also  again  made  me  promise  to  tell 
nobody  of  the  secret  meeting." 

"  And  then  ?  "  I  asked  anxiously. 

"  On  arrival  home  he  washed,  dressed,  and  dined  alone. 
Afterwards  he  put  on  his  gloves,  grey  suede  ones,  ready 
to  go,  but  exchanged  them  for  a  pair  of  white  ones,  as 
he  recollected  that  he  was  going  to  the  opera.  Then  he 
walked  out  to  the  car,  but  suddenly  cried,  '  Oh !  My 
head !  My  head ! '  and  fell  on  to  the  pavement.  I  was 
just  behind  him  when  he  did  so,  and  hurried  to  get  him 
up.  But  he  was  already  unconscious,  and  scarcely  before 
we  could  get  him  into  the  house  he  expired." 

"  And  why  do  you  suspect  foul  play  ?  "  I  asked. 


274        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  I  feel  certain  that  my  master  did  not  die  from  natural 
causes,"  declared  the  thin-faced  man-servant. 

"  You  suspect  that  the  individual  in  round  spectacles 
had  a  hand  in  it — eh  ?  " 

"  I  do.  But  how,  I  have  no  idea.  The  police  pooh- 
pooh  my  suspicions.  But  if  my  suspicions  are  unfounded, 
why  has  not  the  stranger  come  forward  ?  There  has  been 
a  lot  about  the  affair  in  the  papers." 

"  Yes,"  I  said.  "  It  certainly  appears  strange,  for  there 
can  be  no  cause  for  secrecy  now  that  the  Baron  is  dead, 
even  if  some  great  financial  transaction  had  been  in- 
volved." 

"  My  master  often  received  very  queer  visitors,"  said 
Folcker.  "  Once  he  entertained  two  very  strange-looking 
shabby  individuals  when  he  was  at  Aix-les-Bains  with 
Mr.  De  Gex." 

"With  Mr.  De  Gex!"  I  echoed.  "Was  the  Baron 
a  friend  of  his?" 

"  Yes,  an  intimate  friend.  They  often  had  big  deals 
together  in  which  Count  Chamartin,  who  lived  in  Madrid, 
participated." 

"Ah!  That  is  distinctly  interesting,"  I  said.  "Did 
the  Baron,  when  in  London,  visit  Mr.  De  Gex  at  Stretton 
Street?" 

"  Frequently.  They  were  mutually  interested  in  the 
great  Netherlands  Shipping  Combine  about  a  year  ago," 
replied  the  valet. 

"  And  you  usually  travelled  with  your  master,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

"  Nearly  always.  We  were  frequently  in  Paris,  Ber- 
lin, Rome,  or  Madrid,  and  naturally  I  learnt  a  good  deal 
about  his  business.  His  most  intimate  friend  was  Mr. 
De  Gex.  Do  you  happen  to  know  him  ?  " 

I  gritted  my  teeth,  and  replied  in  the  affirmative. 


WHAT  THE  VALET  KNEW  275 

"A  very  charming  man,"  the  valet  declared.  "  He  was 
always  very  good  to  the  servants.  I  used  to  look  after 
him  when  he  visited  us  here  in  Amsterdam." 

"  Did  you  ever  meet  a  friend  of  his — a  Frenchman 
named  Suzor?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  once.  When  we  stayed  with  Mr.  De  Gex  at 
Florence.  He  was  a  fellow  guest  with  my  master." 

"  And  an  Italian  doctor  named  Moroni  ?  " 

Folcker  shook  his  head,  as  he  replied : 

"  I  have  no  recollection  of  an  Italian  doctor.  We  were 
in  Florence  only  two  weeks." 

"  Of  course  you  know  Mr.  De  Gex's  butler,  a  man 
named  Horton  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No,  the  man  I  know  is  named  Farmer.  I  haven't  been 
to  Stretton  Street  for  over  a  year." 

It  would  therefore  appear  that  Horton  was  a  new 
servant. 

"  But  have  you  any  idea  how  your  master  died  ?  "  was 
my  next  query. 

"  None — only  something  tells  be  that  he  fell  victim  to 
a  plot  for  his  assassination." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  he  more  than  once  told  me  that  if  he  died 
certain  persons  would  derive  great  benefits." 

"Who?    His  friends?" 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"Including  De  Gex?" 

The  thin- faced  man  shook  his  head,  saying: 

"  Ah !  That  I  cannot  tell,  sir.  But  I  know  that  Mr. 
De  Gex  owed  the  Baron  a  very  considerable  sum  over  a 
financial  deal  regarding  some  oil  wells  in  Roumania. 
Only  a  few  months  ago  he  mentioned  to  Mr.  Grant,  one 
of  his  friends,  in  my  presence,  that  he  hoped  De  Gex 


276        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

would  very  soon  settle  with  him.  In  fact  he  seemed  an- 
noyed at  the  delay  in  the  payment." 

This  statement  caused  me  to  reflect  deeply. 

Was  it  really  possible  that  the  Dutch  Baron's  death 
had  been  due  to  the  machinations  of  this  mystery-man 
of  Europe?  The  fact  that  he  owed  the  dead  man  money 
would  serve  as  sufficient  motive !  I  did  not  overlook  the 
deeply-laid  plot  against  myself,  one  that  must  have  sent 
me  swiftly  into  my  grave  had  it  not  been  for  my  provi- 
dential escape. 

The  whole  amazing  facts,  my  meeting  with  Suzor  in 
the  express  between  York  and  King's  Cross,  the  trap  set 
for  me  at  Stretton  Street,  and  my  astounding  adventures 
afterwards,  all  flashed  through  my  mind.  Oswald  De  Gex 
was  a  most  unscrupulous  person  who  had  climbed  to  fame 
and  fortune  over  the  ruined  homes  and  bodies  of  his  vic- 
tims. I  was  now  out  to  obtain  direct  and  undeniable 
evidence  of  his  crimes. 

Yet  up  to  the  present  I  could  not  go  much  further  than 
mere  surmise.  Two  of  his  business  friends,  Count  Cha- 
martin  and  Baron  van  Veltrup,  had  died  quite  suddenly. 
In  the  case  of  the  latter,  the  valet  expressed  a  positive 
belief  that  his  master  had  not  died  of  natural  causes. 
This  was  supported  by  the  fact  that  the  Baron  received 
a  mysterious  visitor  at  an  obscure  hotel  at  The  Hague, 
a  man  who  was  apparently  disguised  by  big  horn  spec- 
tacles, and  was  certainly  not  a  Dutchman. 

And  above  all  that,  I  held  most  conclusive  evidence  that 
both  De  Gex  himself  and  the  dead  bandit,  Despujol,  had 
used  that  deadly  drug  orosin  to  secure  their  nefarious 
ends. 

But  the  most  irritating  feature  of  the  affair  was  that 
I  was  as  far  off  as  ever  from  solving  the  mystery  of  what 
happened  on  that  memorable  night  in  Stretton  Street,  or 


THE  VALET  KNEW  277 

•vrith  what  motive  I  had  been  induced  to  give  a  death- 
certficate  that  had  enabled  the  body  of  an  unknown  girl 
to  be  cremated. 

I  questioned  the  valet,  Folcker,  still  further,  telling  him 
that  I  had  come  especially  from  London  to  endeavour  to 
elucidate  the  truth  concerning  his  master's  death.  He 
was  devoted  to  the  Baron,  and  was  highly  incensed  at  the 
attitude  taken  by  the  Dutch  police. 

"  I  will  give  you  every  assistance,  sir,"  he  replied. 

"  Excellent,"  I  said.  "  I  would  very  much  like  to  go  to 
the  Baron's  house.  Could  you  take  me  there  ?  " 

"  Most  certainly,  sir,"  was  his  response,  and  with  will- 
ingness he  accompanied  me  in  a  horse  cab  up  the  cobbled 
Leidwche  Straat  with  its  many  canals  to  the  pleasant 
Vondel  Park,  just  outside  the  city.  We  stopped  before 
a  great  white  house,  square  and  rather  inartistic,  standing 
back  behind  very  high  iron  railings,  to  which  we  were 
admitted  by  an  elderly  man-servant  who  was  in  charge 
of  the  place  now  that  its  owner  was  dead. 

Folcker  showed  me  his  master's  handsome  dressing- 
room  which  had  been  left  practically  as  it  was  on  the 
night  of  his  tragic  end.  He  showed  me  how  the  Baron 
had  put  on  his  evening  clothes  and  descended  to  dine. 

He  took  me  into  the  fine,  handsomely-furnished  dining- 
room,  with  big  long  carved  table  in  the  centre,  and  showed 
me  the  small  round  table  set  in  the  big  bow  window  look- 
ing out  upon  the  garden,  at  which  the  Baron  always  ate 
his  meals  when  alone. 

"  After  finishing  his  dinner  the  Baron  smoked  one  of 
his  Petroff  cigarettes  which  were  especially  made  for  him 
in  Odessa,  and  then  calling  me,  he  asked  for  his  coat  and 
told  me  to  ring  up  for  the  car,"  Folcker  said.  "  He  fin- 
ished his  cigarette  and  a  glass  of  kummel,  at  the  same 
time  scanning  the  evening  newspaper.  All  the  time  he  had 


278        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

been  eating,  however,  he  seemed  in  a  very  angry  mood. 
The  interview  with  the  stranger  at  The  Hague  had  some- 
how upset  him,  for  once  or  twice  he  muttered  angrily  to 
himself." 

"  Now  tell  me,  Folcker,"  I  asked  seriously,  "  when  he 
entered  that  little  hotel  at  The  Hague  he  waited  for  his 
mysterious  visitor — did  he  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  The  visitor  arrived  and  you  saw  him.  I  understand 
that  your  master  came  out  and  saw  you  during  the  inter- 
view ?  " 

"  Yes.  About  ten  miuutes  after  the  stranger's  arrival 
the  Baron  came  into  the  little  hall  of  the  hotel  and  told 
me  that  he  would  not  require  me  for  an  hour,  or  perhaps 
more.  Apparently  he  did  not  wish  the  car  to  stand  out- 
side the  place  for  -so  long,  lest  it  should  be  recognized. 
So  he  sent  me  to  a  garage." 

I  hesitated. 

"  Then  the  stranger  was  left  inside  the  hotel  alone  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  for  two  or  three  minutes.    Why?" 

We  were  standing  out  in  the  well-furnished  hall  and  I 
glanced  around. 

"  Your  master  was  in  quite  good  health  as  he  ate  his 
dinner  and  smoked  his  cigarette  ?  "  I  remarked. 

"  Quite.  He  came  out  of  the  room  and  standing  here 
I  gave  him  his  hat,  coat,  gloves  and  stick.  After  he  had 
put  on  his  coat  he  drew  on  his  left-hand  glove.  Suddenly 
he  tore  it  off  again,  and  rubbing  his  fingers  together  im- 
patiently, said :  *  I  forgot,  Folcker !  I'm  going  to  the 
opera,  give  me  some  white  gloves.'  They  were  in  the 
drawer  yonder,"  the  valet  said,  pointing  to  a  great  old 
carved  Flemish  cupboard.  "  So  I  got  them  out  and 
handed  them  to  him.  He  drew  one  of  them  on  and 
walked  down  to  the  gate  to  enter  the  car,  when  he  sud- 


WHAT  THE  VALET  KNEW  279 

denly  fell  upon  the  pavement  outside.  You  see,  just 
yonder,"  and  he  pointed  through  the  open  door. 

"Why  did  he  rub  his  fingers  together,  I  wonder?"  I 
remarked.  "  Was  it  a  habit  of  his?  " 

"  Not  at  all,  sir.  He  seemed  to  have  a  sudden  pain  in 
his  fingers." 

"A  pain.    Why?" 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.  It  has  only  this  moment  occurred 
to  me.  He  flung  off  the  glove  and  tossed  it  upon  the 
table.  It's  still  there — as  you  see.  Then  he  put  on  the 
white  gloves  and  went  down  the  steps  and  collapsed." 

"  His  head  was  affected?  " 

"  Yes,  he  cried  out  twice  that  his  head  hurt  him.  The 
doctors  attribute  his  death  to  heart  failure.  But,  per- 
sonally, I  doubt  it,  sir!  I'm  certain  that  there  was  foul 
play  somewhere." 

I  crossed  to  the  great  carved  table  which  stood  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  wide  hall,  tiled  as  it  was  with  ancient 
blue  and  white  Dutch  tiles,  and  from  the  table  took  up  a 
pair  of  well-worn  grey  suede  gloves.  They  interested  me, 
because  after  putting  one  on  the  Baron  had  torn  it  off 
and  rubbed  his  fingers. 

"  Is  this  the  glove  your  master  wore  when  he  went  to 
The  Hague  ?  "  I  asked,  selecting  the  left-hand  one. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

I  examined  it  closely  and  very  gingerly.  The  exterior 
presented  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary,  but  on  turning 
it  inside  out,  I  found  in  the  index  finger  a  tiny  piece  of 
steel  which  tumbled  out  upon  the  table. 

It  was  apparently  a  piece  clipped  from  the  blade  of  a 
safety  razor,  and  keenly  sharp.  Anyone  inserting  a  finger 
into  the  glove  would  certainly  be  cut  by  the  razor  edge 
of  that  sharp  scrap  of  steel.  As  it  lay  upon  the  polished 


280        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

oak  I  bent  to  look  at  it,  the  valet  also  standing  near  and 
bending  down  in  curiosity. 

Upon  it  something  had  apparently  been  smeared — some 
colourless  jelly,  it  seemed. 

Had  Baron  van  Veltrup  fallen  victim  to  orosin,  wilfully 
administered  ? 

That  was  my  instant  suspicion,  one  that  was  afterwards 
verified  by  the  great  Dutch  pathologist  Doctor  Obelt,  who 
lived  in  the  Amstel  Straat,  and  to  whom  I  carried  the 
mysterious  but  incriminating  scrap  of  steel. 

"Without  a  doubt  this  piece  of  razor-blade  has  been 
impregnated  with  a  new  and  most  deadly  poison,  orosin," 
he  declared  to  me  on  the  following  evening  as  I  sat  in  his 
consulting  room.  "  The  police  have  seen  no  mysterious 
circumstances  in  the  unfortunate  death  of  the  Baron,  who, 
by  the  way,  was  a  very  dear  friend  of  mine.  But  now  you 
have  brought  me  this  piece  of  steel  which  you  took  from 
his  glove,  and  which  no  doubt  must  have  caused  a  slight 
cut  to  his  finger  and,  in  consequence,  almost  instant  death, 
I  feel  it  my  duty  to  take  up  the  matter  with  the  authori- 
ties." 

"  I  shall  be  much  gratified,  doctor,  if  you  will,"  I  urged, 
speaking  in  French.  "  The  valet's  suspicions  of  foul  play 
are  entirely  proved." 

"  Yes,  foul  play,  committed  by  somebody  who  pos- 
sesses expert  toxicological  knowledge.  I  confess  that  this 
is  the  first  time  I  have  discovered  orosin.  The  hint  you 
gave  me  caused  me  to  search  for  it,  and  that  I  have  found 
it  is  undoubted." 

Later  that  day  I  accompanied  the  doctor  to  the  Bureau 
of  Police,  where  we  were  met  by  a  very  stolid  official 
who  smoked  a  long  thin  cigar  all  the  time  he  talked  to  us. 

At  first  he  treated  the  affair  as  of  no  importance.  The 
medical  evidence  had  pronounced  the  Baron's  death  as 


WHAT  THE  VALET  KNEW  281 

having  been  due  to  natural  causes.  The  police  could  not 
interfere  further,  he  declared. 

"  Ah !  but  thanks  to  the  Baron's  valet  we  now  have  evi- 
dence of  a  most  subtle  and  deadly  poison,"  declared  the 
Dutch  pathologist.  "I  certify  that  I  have  found  upon  a 
small  piece  of  sharp  steel,  which  has  been  discovered  in 
the  dead  man's  glove,  traces  of  orosin,  one  of  the  least 
known  but  most  dangerous  poisons." 

The  heavy-jowled  Dutch  police  official  straightened 
himself  in  his  chair. 

"  Is  that  really  so,  doctor  ?  "  he  asked  in  surprise,  hold- 
ing his  cigar  between  his  fingers. 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  Doctor  Obelt  replied.  "  The  body  must 
be  exhumed,  and  an  examination  made  to  ascertain  if 
there  is  a  small  cut  in  the  first  finger  of  the  left  hand.  If 
there  is — then  the  Baron  has  been  secretly  murdered !  " 

"  The  valet  has  alleged  this  all  along,  but  there  being 
no  evidence  we  disbelieved  him,"  said  the  official  at  once. 

"  There  is  now  evidence — direct  evidence,"  said  the 
Dutch  doctor.  "  This  Englishman  here  is  interested  in 
some  way  in  the  Baron's  death,  and  after  discovering  the 
scrap  of  razor-blade  he  brought  it  to  me." 

The  Dutch  police  official  knit  his  brows,  and  turning  to 
me,  asked : 

"Did  you  yourself  discover  this  piece  of  steel?" 

"  I  did.  From  certain  facts  within  my  knowledge  I 
suspected  that  the  Baron  had  been  deliberately  killed. 
The  allegations  of  the  valet,  Folcker,  strengthened  my 
suspicions,  hence  I  travelled  from  London  and  pursued 
my  own  independent  inquiries,  which  have  resulted  in  the 
discovery  of  the  little  piece  of  blade  inside  the  gl'ove  which 
the  Baron  wore  when  he  went  to  interview  his  mysterious 
visitor  at  The  Hague." 

"  But  what  evidence  have  we  that  the  mysterious  vis- 


282        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

itor — the  individual  who  has  been  referred  to  in  the  re- 
port as  the  man  with  the  round  horn  glasses — had  any- 
thing to  do  with  the  affair?" 

"  According  to  the  Baron's  servant  the  visitor  was  left 
alone  for  a  few  moments  in  the  room  where  van  Veltrup 
had  put  down  his  gloves  in  order  to  go  out  and  speak  to 
his  valet,  who  on  that  day  was  acting  as  his  chauffeur. 
It  was  in  those  moments  of  his  absence  that  the  unknown 
visitor  put  the  infected  scrap  of  steel  into  the  Baron's 
glove." 

"  Did  he  not  wear  the  gloves  on  his  way  back  to  Am- 
sterdam ?  "  asked  the  police  official,  as  he  laid  down  his 
thin  cigar. 

"  No,"  I  replied.  "  The  valet  is  certain  that  instead 
of  putting  on  his  gloves  he  thrust  them  into  the  pocket  of 
his  linen  dust-coat.  Folcker  says  that  when  his  mas- 
ter returned  he  took  the  gloves  from  the  pocket  of 
the  linen  coat  and  placed  them  on  the  table  in  the  hall — 
as  was  his  habit.  It  was  only  when  the  Baron  was  going 
out  again  that  he  put  on  the  left-hand  one,  and  then  sud- 
denly drew  it  off  and  rubbed  his  ringers.  The  first  finger 
of  his  left  hand  had  undoubtedly  been  cut,  and  hence  in- 
fected with  that  substance  which  .causes  almost  instant 
death  and  the  exact  symptoms  of  heart  disease." 

"  Orosin — did  you  say  ?  "  asked  the  head  of  the  Am- 
sterdam police. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied.  "  Orosin — the  most  dangerous,  sub- 
tle and  easily  administered  poison  known  to  our  modern 
toxicologists.  And  your  great  financier  Baron  van  Vel- 
trup has  died  by  the  hand  of  one  who  has  wilfully  admin- 
istered it !  " 

"  Well,"  said  the  stolid  man  with  the  scraggy  beard, 
rather  reluctantly,  "  I  confess  that  this  has  come  to  me  as 
a  perfect  revelation." 


WHAT  THE  VALET  KNEW  283 

"  You  have  only  to  order  the  exhumation  of  the  Baron's 
body,  and  an  examination  of  the  left  hand,  to  be  con- 
vinced that  what  this  Englishman,  Mr.  Garfield,  has  dis- 
covered is  the  actual  truth ! "  declared  Doctor  Obelt, 
whose  reputation  as  a  pathologist  was  the  highest  in  the 
Netherlands,  and  against  whose  opinion  even  the  Chief  of 
Police  of  Amsterdam  could  raise  no  word. 

"  It  shall  be  done,  gentlemen,"  the  stolid  official  assured 
us.  "  It  shall  be  done  in  secret — and  at  once." 

He  was  true  to  his  word,  for  at  noon  next  day  I  re- 
ceived an  invitation  to  call  again  at  the  Police  Bureau, 
and  was  there  informed  that  a  small  superficial  cut  upon 
the  first  finger  of  the  left  hand  had  been  discovered. 

Therefore  there  was  no  doubt  that  death  had  resulted 
from  foul  play. 

If  such  were  the  case,  it  seemed  more  than  probable 
that  to  Count  de  Chamartin,  the  intimate  associate  of 
Oswald  De  Gex,  a  similar  dose  of  orosin  had  been  ad- 
ministered ! 


CHAPTER  THE  TWENTY-SIXTH 

MORE  ABOUT   MATED   SANZ 

THE  means  by  which  the  unfortunate  Baron  van  Veltrup 
had  met  with  his  death  was  as  ingenious  as  that  practised 
upon  me  by  the  expert  thief,  Despujol.  As  I  reflected 
upon  all  the  details  as  related  to  me  by  the  valet,  Folcker, 
I  suddenly  recollected  that  the  Baron's  strange  visitor, 
the  man  who  must  have  placed  that  sharp  scrap  of  razor- 
blade  within  his  glove  at  the  moment  when  the  unsus- 
picious victim  had  gone  outside  to  speak  with  his  servant, 
was  described  as  a  man  with  a  red  face  and  a  dark  mous- 
tache. 

A  man  who  answered  such  description  was  the  elusive 
friend  of  Mademoiselle  Jacquelot,  of  Montauban,  the 
motor  bandit  Mateo  Sanz — the  man  who  had  so  cleverly 
evaded  the  police,  and  who  had  no  doubt  been  an  inti- 
mate friend  of  Despujol !  In  order  to  confirm  my  suspi- 
cions, I  at  once  telegraphed  to  Senpr  Rivero  in  Madrid, 
urging  him  to  send  me  a  copy  of  the  police  photograph  of 
Sanz  for  identification  purposes.  That  same  day  I  re- 
ceived a  reply  which  informed  me  that  the  photograph 
was  in  the  post,  hence  I  remained  in  Amsterdam  awaiting 
its  arrival. 

Four  days  later  it  was  handed  to  me,  a  photograph 
taken  in  several  positions  of  the  rather  round-faced,  florid 
man  whom  I  had  seen  talking  to  Mademoiselle  at  the  sta- 
tion at  Montauban — the  man  whom  Rivero  had  followed, 
but  who,  on  the  French  police  going  to  arrest  him,  was 
found  to  have  fled. 

284 


MORE  ABOUT  MATEO  SANZ  285 

I  carried  the  photograph  to  Folcker's  lodgings  and 
there  showed  it  to  him. 

"  That  is  the  man  who  met  my  master,  sir !  "  he  cried 
unhesitatingly.  "  Only  he  wore  round  horn  spectacles. 
His  face  and  moustache  are  the  same.  He  was  not 
Dutch." 

"  No.  This  man  is  a  Spaniard  named  Sanz,  who  is 
well  known  to  the  police,"  I  replied. 

"Then  they  should  arrest  him,  for  he  is  no  doubt  re- 
sponsible for  my  poor  master's  death." 

We  went  together  to  the  Bureau  of  Police  where  the 
valet  formally  identified  the  photograph,  and  made  certain 
declarations  concerning  the  malefactor  in  question.  These 
he  signed. 

"  I  happen  to  have  seen  this  individual,"  I  explained 
to  the  police  commissary.  "  I  was  with  Senor  Rivero, 
head  of  the  Spanish  detective  department,  and  we  saw 
him  at  Montauban.  But  though  Senor  Rivero  followed 
him,  he  escaped." 

"  Then  he  is  wanted — eh  ?  " 

«  Yes— for  murder." 

The  Dutch  police  official  gave  vent  to  a  low  grunt. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said.  "  I  will  have  inquiry  made.  I 
thank  you  very  much  for  the  information." 

It  seemed  to  me  that  he  was  annoyed  because  I  had 
dared  to  dispute  his  theory  that  the  late  Baron  had  died 
from  natural  causes.  He  was  a  stolid  man,  who,  having 
once  made  up  his  mind,  would  not  hear  any  evidence  to 
the  contrary. 

With  failing  heart  I  saw  that  to  move  him  was  hope- 
less, so  next  day  I  returned  to  London,  piqued  and  angry, 
yet  satisfied  that  I  had  discovered  the  true  cause  of  the 
Baron's  lamentable  death. 

Weeks  passed.    To  pursue  the  inquiry  further  seemed 


286        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

quite  hopeless.  The  summer  went  by,  but  Mrs.  Tennison 
and  her  daughter  still  remained  in  Lyons.  The  reports 
were  never  hopeful.  My  poor  darling  was  just  the  same. 
There  recurred  to  her  ever  and  anon  a  remembrance  of 
those  three  colours  which  haunted  her — red,  green  and 
gold. 

The  Professor  was  most  kind,  Gabrielle's  mother  wrote 
me.  He  did  everything  in  his  power,  and  still  persevered 
after  failure  upon  failure. 

"  I  fear  poor  Gabrielle  will  never  recover,"  she  wrote 
in  one  of  her  letters.  "  The  Professor  is  always  opti- 
mistic, but  I  can  read  that  in  his  heart  he  has  no  hope. 
The  next  step  will,  I  dread  to  think,  be  hopeless  imbe- 
cility!" 

With  that  letter  in  my  pocket  I  went  to  the  office  in 
Westminster  each  day  with  leaden  heart.  The  joys  of 
life  had  become  blotted  out.  I  cared  for  nothing,  for 
no  one,  and  my  interest  in  living  further  had  been  sud- 
denly swept  away. 

Harry  Hambledon,  as  we  sat  together  at  breakfast  each 
day,  tried  in  vain  to  interest  me  in  various  ways.  He 
urged  me  one  evening  to  go  with  him  and  Norah  to  the 
Palais  de  Danse,  across  Hammersmith  Bridge,  and  I 
was  forced  to  accept.  But  instead  of  dancing  I  sat  at  a 
side  table  and  sipped  ice  drinks.  Dancing  had  no  attrac- 
tion for  me. 

Very  fortunately  we  were  extremely  busy  at  the  office. 
Four  big  contracts  had  been  entered  into  by  the  firm  for 
the  lighting  and  telephones  for  four  new  hotels-de-luxe, 
one  at  Bude,  in  Cornwall,  one  in  Knightsbridge,  another 
at  Llandudno,  in  North  Wales,  and  the  fourth  at  Cromer. 
Hence  I  was  compelled  to  be  ever  on  the  move  between 
Wales,  Norfolk,  and  Cornwall,  and  perhaps  this  sudden 
activity  prevented  me  from  brooding  too  closely  over  the 


MORE  ABOUT  MATEO  SANZ  287 

hopeless  condition  of  the  girl  with  whom  I  was  so  deeply 
in  love.  In  these  days  electrical  engineers  have  to  be 
pretty  active  in  order  to  pay  their  way,  and  though 
Francis  and  Goldsmith  was  an  old-established  firm,  they 
were  nothing  if  not  up-to-date  in  their  methods. 

One  morning  as  I  sat  in  a  corner  of  the  London-Exeter 
express  on  my  way  down  to  Bude,  I  read  in  my  paper 
the  following: 

"  Mr.  Oswald  De  Gex,  the  well-known  interna- 
tional financier,  is  to  be  entertained  on  Thursday  next 
to  luncheon  by  the  Lord  Mayor  and  Corporation  at 
the  Mansion  House.  The  Prime  Ministers  of  Spain 
and  the  Netherlands,  who  are  in  London  on  official 
business,  will  be  included  among  the  guests.  Mr.  De 
Gex,  though  he  has  a  house  in  London,  is  seldom 
here.  He  has  recently  been  engaged  in  a  great  finan- 
cial scheme  to  secure  for  England  the  whole  of  the 
output  of  the  rich  oil  field  recently  discovered  in 
Ecuador." 

So  Oswald  De  Gex  was  still  in  London!  I  held  my 
breath.  With  his  wall  of  wealth  before  him  he  seemed 
invulnerable.  I  recollected  those  crisp  Bank  of  England 
notes  which  still  reposed  in  a  drawer  at  Rivermead  Man- 
sions— the  bribe  I  had  so  foolishly  accepted  to  become  his 
accomplice  in  that  mysterious  crime. 

Gabrielle  Engledue!  Who  was  the  girl  whose  body, 
because  of  my  false  certificate,  had  been  reduced  to  ashes 
in  order  to  destroy  all  evidence  of  foul  play?  Who  was 
she — and  what  was  the  motive? 

If  I  could  only  ascertain  the  latter,  then  I  might  be 
able  to  reconstruct  the  crime  slowly,  piece  by  piece.  But 
as  far  as  I  could  see  there  was  an  utter  absence  of  motive. 


288        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

Long  ago  I  had  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  by  the 
death  of  the  unknown  girl  named  Engledue,  the  unscrupu- 
lous financier  had  added  some  considerable  sum  to  his  bank 
balance.  But  how?  His  crafty  unscrupulousness  was 
shown  by  the  manner  in  which  his  partner,  to  whom  he 
owed  a  big  sum,  had  been  cleverly  secretly  killed  by  a 
hireling — a  friend  of  the  dead  Despujol.  Oswald  De  Gex 
posed  to  the  world  as  an  honest  and  upright  man  of  busi- 
ness whose  financial  aid  was  welcomed  cordially  by  all 
the  hard-up  States  in  Europe.  He  posed  as  a  philanthro- 
pist, and  as  such  earned  a  big  reputation  in  those  countries 
in  which  the  operations  of  the  all-powerful  group  he  con- 
trolled were  carried  on. 

But  I  knew  his  methods,  and  I  sat  staggered  at  the 
fact  that  the  Corporation  of  the  City  of  London  were 
about  to  entertain  him.  Yet  money  counts  always.  Did 
not  the  Lord  Mayor  and  Corporation  once  entertain  the 
man  who  gave  a  service  of  gold  communion-plate  to  St. 
Paul's  Cathedral,  and  who  afterwards  spent  many  years 
in  one  of  His  Majesty's  gaols? 

My  blood  boiled  within  me  when  I  read  that  announce- 
ment. Yet  on  calmer  consideration,  I  resolved  to  still 
wait  and  watch. 

I  returned  to  London  on  the  following  Friday,  and  in 
the  train  I  read  of  the  splendid  luncheon  given  on  the 
previous  day  to  the  arch-criminal  and  the  eulogistic 
speeches  made  by  two  English  politicians  and  the  two  for- 
eign Premiers. 

Oswald  De  Gex  was  declared  to  be  one  of  the  greatest 
financiers  of  the  age,  and  there  was  a  hint  that  a  certain 
Allied  Government  was  about  to  enlist  his  efforts  with  a 
view  to  extricate  it  from  national  bankruptcy. 

De  Gex  was  a  man  who  thought  and  spoke  in  millions. 
Accompanying  the  article  was  a  photograph  of  him  stand- 


MORE  ABOUT  MATEO  SANZ  289 

ing  smiling  beside  the  Lord  Mayor  as  guest  of  the  City 
oi  London.  Oswald  De  Gex  seldom  allowed  himself  to 
be  photographed,  but  some  enterprising  Press  photogra- 
pher had  no  doubt  snapped  him  unawares. 

His  hesitation  to  be  photographed — public  man  that 
he  was — was  but  natural.  Wherever  you  hear  of  people 
in  the  public  eye,  male  or  female,  who  will  not  allow  their 
pictures  to  appear  in  the  papers,  you  may  always  suspect 
in  that  hesitation  a  dread  of  the  raking  up  of  some  hidden 
scandal.  Many  a  face  which  has  looked  out  upon  us 
from  a  pictorial  newspaper  or  a  "  back-page  "  of  one's 
daily  journal,  has  caused  its  owner  much  terror,  and  in 
more  than  one  instance  a  rush  into  obscurity  to  avoid  the 
police. 

Scotland  Yard  and  the  Paris  Surete  have  many  albums 
of  photographs,  and  it  is  not  generally  known  that  each 
day  their  counterparts  are  searched  for  in  the  daily  jour- 
nals. 

Oswald  De  Gex  had  on  that  memorable  day  become, 
against  his  will  no  doubt,  a  lion  of  London.  One  heard 
nothing  of  Mrs.  De  Gex.  She  was  still  at  the  Villa  Clem- 
entini  no  doubt.  Her  name  was  never  mentioned  in  the 
very  eulogistic  articles  which  innocent  men  of  Fleet  Street 
penned  concerning  the  man  of  colossal  finance.  One  can 
never  blame  Fleet  Street  for  "  booming "  any  man  or 
woman.  A  couple  of  thousand  pounds  to  a  Press  agent 
will  secure  for  a  burglar  an  invitation  to  dine  at  a  peer's 
table.  Plainly  speaking,  in  Europe  since  the  war,  real 
merit  has  become  almost  a  back  number.  Money  buys 
anything  and  anybody. 

I  fear  that,  young  man  as  I  still  am,  I  am  a  fierce  critic 
of  the  manners  of  our  times.  I  learned  my,  perhaps,  old- 
fashioned  ideas  from  my  father,  an  honest,  upright,  coun- 
try parson,  who  loved  to  ride  with  the  hounds,  who  called 


290         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

a  spade  a  spade,  and  openly  denounced  a  liar  as  such.  He 
never  minced  matters,  and  stuck  to  his  opinion,  yet  he 
was  a  pious,  generous,  open-hearted  Englishman,  who 
had  no  use  for  the  "  international  financier,"  who  has 
lately  become  the  pseudonym  for  a  foreign  adventurer. 

The  autumn  days  shortened  and  winter  was  approach- 
ing, for  the  east  winds  blew  chill  across  the  Thames  into 
my  room  as  I  shaved  before  my  window  each  morning. 
Mrs.  Tennison  was  still  in  Lyons,  and  Harry  Hambledon 
went  each  morning  to  his  sordid  work  at  the  Hammer- 
smith Police  Court,  either  prosecuting  or  defending  in 
small  cases.  His  eloquence  and  shrewdness  as  an  advo- 
cate had  more  than  once  been  commented  upon  by  the 
stipendiary,  hence  he  was  gradually  working  up  quite  a 
lucrative  practice. 

Things  drifted  along  till  the  end  of  October.  De  Gex 
was  living  at  Stretton  Street,  very  occupied,  I  ascer- 
tained, in  arranging  a  great  development  scheme  for 
Liberia,  that  independent  State  in  West  Africa. 

In  the  City  he  was  constantly  expressing  his  regret  at 
the  unfortunate  deaths  of  his  partners,  Count  de  Cha- 
martin,  of  Madrid,  and  the  Baron  van  Veltrup,  of  Am- 
sterdam, but  he  had  expressed  himself  ready  to  carry  the 
great  deal  through  himself,  though  it  involved  the  specu- 
lation of  nearly  two  millions  sterling. 

I  could  hardly  take  up  any  newspaper — neither  could 
you,  my  reader,  for  that  matter — unless  I  saw  De  Gex 
referred  to,  under  another  name,  of  course.  He  went 
here  and  there,  the  guest  of  a  Cabinet  Minister,  playing 
golf  with  a  Leader  of  the  House,  or  spending  a  week-end 
with  a  Duke,  until  it  seemed  that  the  world  of  Society  had 
at  last  prevailed  upon  the  mystery-man  of  millions  to 
emerge  from  his  shell  and  take  up  his  position  in  Mayfair. 

When  I  saw  that  he  was  the  guest  of  certain  hard-up 


MORE  ABOUT  MATEO  SANZ  291 

members  of  the  aristocracy,  or  of  war  profiteers,  who, 
dropping  their  aitches,  had  bought  ancestral  homes,  I 
merely  smiled  at  the  ignorance  of  those  who  were  enter- 
taining one  of  the  greatest  criminals  in  Europe. 

In  the  watch  I  kept  each  evening  upon  the  house  in 
Stretton  Street  my  friend  Harry  Hambledon  assisted  me. 
As  we  lurked  in  doorways  in  the  vicinity,  we  saw  the 
great  ones  of  London  Society,  of  both  sexes,  going  and 
coming,  for  Oswald  De  Gex  had  now  commenced  to 
entertain  upon  a  lavish  scale.  He  gave  smart  dinner- 
parties and  musical  evenings,  which  the  most  exclusive 
set  enjoyed. 

One  night,  after  it  had  grown  dark,  I  sauntered  along 
Park  Lane,  as  was  my  habit,  and  having  turned  into 
Stretton  Street  noticed  a  rather  shabbily  dressed  man,  evi- 
dently a  foreigner,  descending  the  steps  from  De  Gex's 
door.  He  turned  in  my  direction,  and  we  came  face  to 
face. 

In  an  instant  I  recognized  him  as  the  Spaniard,  Mateo 
Sanz !  He  had  never  seen  me  before,  therefore,  when  at 
a  respectable  distance,  I  turned  and  followed  him  along 
to  a  street  off  the  Edgware  Road,  where  he  entered  a 
third-class  private  hotel. 

What,  I  wondered,  was  his  object  in  visiting  De  Gex 
unless  some  other  plot  was  in  progress  ?  I,  however,  did 
not  intend,  now  that  I  knew  the  truth  concerning  the 
death  of  the  Baron  in  Amsterdam,  that  the  assassin  should 
escape.  Hence  I  took  a  taxi  to  Scotland  Yard  where 
I  was  interviewed  by  a  detective-inspector  to  whom 
I  revealed  the  hiding-place  of  the  much-wanted 
criminal. 

He  thanked  me,  and  then  began  to  inquire  what  I  knew 
concerning  him.  In  return,  I  told  him  of  my  friendship 
with  the  great  Spanish  detective  Rivero,  and  how,  with 


292        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

the  latter,  I  had  seen  Sanz  at  the  station  at  Montauban. 

Presently  he  rose,  and  telling  me  he  would  search  for 
any  request  from  the  Spanish  Government  for  the  man's 
arrest,  he  left  me. 

He  returned  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later  with  some  pa- 
pers in  his  hands,  and  said : 

"  I  find  that  the  Madrid  police  have  applied  to  us  for 
this  individual's  arrest,  and  here  is  his  photograph,"  and 
he  showed  me  one  similar  to  that  which  Rivero  had  sent 
me  to  Amsterdam. 

I,  of  course,  made  no  mention  of  Oswald  De  Gex,  but 
it  suddenly  occurred  to  me  that  if  Sanz  were  arrested  De 
Gex  might  take  fright,  so  I  suggested  that  the  Spaniard 
be  kept  under  surveillance  until  the  Spanish  police  were 
communicated  with. 

"  I  believe  Seiior  Rivero  suspects  that  Sanz  is  one  of 
a  very  dangerous  gang,"  I  said.  "  If  so,  it  would  be  well 
to  arrest  them  all." 

"  Are  the  others  in  London,  do  you  think  ?  "  asked  the' 
tall,  dark-haired  official  of  the  Criminal  Investigation  De- 
partment. 

"  Ah !  That  I  do  not  know,"  was  my  reply.  "  I  only 
know  that  Mateo  Sanz  is  a  very  dangerous  person,  who 
has  been  wanted  for  several  years."' 

"  Well,  we  thank  you  very  much  for  your  information, 
sir,  and  we  shall  act  upon  it  at  once,"  he  replied.  And 
then  I  went  along  the  stone  corridor  and  out  again  into 
Parliament  Street,  well  satisfied  that  I  had,  at  last,  placed 
one  of  the  criminals  in  the  hands  of  the  police,  who  would, 
in  due  course,  learn  the  true  facts  concerning  Baron  van 
Veltrup's  mysterious  end. 


CHAPTER  THE  TWENTY-SEVENTH 

A  CURIOUS   STORY 

AT  Scotland  Yard  they  acted  upon  my  suggestion,  and 
at  once  sent  a  wireless  message  to  Senor  Rivero  in  Ma- 
drid, telling  him  of  the  discovery  of  the  notorious  Mateo 
Sanz. 

In  the  meantime  my  curiosity  was  further  aroused  by 
a  note  sent  to  me  by  Mrs.  Tennison's  servant,  Mrs.  Al- 
ford,  next  day,  saying  that  Doctor  Moroni  had  called  at 
Longridge  Road  and  that,  finding  Miss  Gabrielle  absent, 
he  had  put  to  her  a  number  of  questions  concerning  my- 
self. 

"  As  I  promised  you,  sir,"  the  woman  wrote,  "  I  pleaded 
ignorance  of  everything.  He  was  apparently  astonished 
to  find  my  mistress  and  Miss  Gabrielle  away.  He  asked 
me  for  their  address,  but  I  replied  that  they  were  moving 
from  place  to  place  on  the  Continent.  He  seemed  most 
annoyed,  and  went  away." 

I  wondered  what  was  his  object  in  going  to  Longridge 
Road,  if  not  for  the  purpose  of  some  further  evil  work. 
Though  he  pretended  friendliness  towards  Gabrielle,  yet 
I  knew  that  he  was  her  enemy,  just  as  he  was  mine. 

Moroni  was  in  London,  hence  he  would  no  doubt  visit 
De  Gex.  Hambledon  was  unknown  to  Moroni,  therefore 
he  watched  in  Stretton  Street  on  the  following  night,  and 
in  his  work  of  observation  he  was  assisted  by  Norah,  who 
had  been  told  something  of  the  strange  circumstances, 
though  of  course  not  the  whole  amazing  story. 

Just  before  eleven  o'clock  Harry  and  his  fiancee  arrived 
at  Rivermead  Mansions  in  a  taxi  and  told  me  that  they 

293 


294         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

had  seen  Moroni  arrive  at  Stretton  Street  about  half -past 
nine.  He  was  admitted  by  a  new  and  rather  supercilious 
man-servant — for  Horton  did  not  now  seem  to  be  in  the 
great  man's  employ. 

"  Ten  minutes  afterwards  Suzor  arrived,"  Harry  said. 
"  Then  about  half  an  hour  later  Moroni  came  out." 

"  I  was  passing  the  house  slowly  when  he  came  down 
the  steps  muttering  fiercely  to  himself  in  Italian,"  Norah 
said.  "  He  took  no  notice  of  me,  for  he  seemed  extremely 
angry  and  excited.  Indeed,  as  he  left,  he  glanced  back 
at  the  house,  his  hands  clenched,  and  he  seemed  to  invoke 
a  curse  upon  it." 

"  By  Jove !  "  I  gasped.  "  That's  interesting !  The  pre- 
cious trio  have  perhaps  quarrelled ! " 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Hambledon.  "  And  as  a  lawyer  I 
venture  to  predict  that  if  they  really  have  we  shall,  ere 
long,  obtain  some  very  interesting  disclosures." 

Norah  stayed  and  had  some  supper,  for  we  were  all 
desperately  hungry,  and  later  on  Harry  saw  her  back  to 
Richmond. 

Three  days  later,  in  consequence  of  a  message  sent  to 
me  from  the  Hotel  Cecil,  I  went  home  early  from  the 
office  to  Rivermead  Mansions,  and  had  only  been  in  five 
minutes  when  the  door-bell  rang. 

On  opening  it  I  found  my  expected  visitor,  Senor 
Rivero. 

"  Ah !  my  dear  friend !  "  cried  the  good-humoured  po- 
lice official,  as  he  wrung  my  hand  warmly.  "  So  I  have 
found  you  at  last !  The  taxi-man  made  a  mistake  in  the 
address  and  took  me  further  down  the  road.  Well,  so 
you  have  been  doing  good  business  for  us — eh  ?  You  have 
found  Mateo  Sanz !  " 

"  Yes.     I  recognized  him,"  I  said. 

"  I  have  just  been  with  Superintendent  Risden,  of 
Scotland  Yard,  and  we  have  seen  our  friend  whom  we 


A  CURIOUS  STORY  295 

have  wanted  for  so  long.  He  is  quite  unsuspicious.  But 
I  am  told  that  two  days  ago  he  visited  the  house  of  Mr. 
De  Gex." 

"  Yes,  he  is  his  friend,  just  as  Despujol  was,"  I  re- 
marked. 

"  But  I  cannot  understand  that !  "  Rivero  declared. 
"  It  seems  incredible  that  a  person  of  such  high  standing 
as  Mr.  De  Gex  should  number  bandits  among  his 
friends !  " 

"  I  revealed  to  you  the  truth  concerning  De  Gex  when 
we  were  in  Nimes,"  I  said.  "  Even  then  you  were  half 
inclined  to  disbelieve  it.  Now  you  know  the  truth.  The 
two  business  partners  of  Oswald  De  Gex,  the  Conde  de 
Chamartin,  of  Madrid,  and  the  Baron  van  Veltrup,  of 
Amsterdam,  have  both  died  suddenly — and  at  the  instiga- 
tion of  their  unsuspected  friend!  It  has  been  proved 
that  Sanz  introduced  the  tiny  scrap  of  infected  razor- 
blade  into  the  Baron's  glove." 

"  At  De  Gex's  instigation  ? — impossible !  " 

"  De  Gex  was  the  only  person  to  profit  by  the  Baron's 
death,"  I  pointed  out.  "  He  owed  a  large  sum  to  the 
Baron  over  a  financial  deal,  and  by  the  latter's  death,  and 
the  destruction  of  certain  papers,  he  now  escapes  pay- 
ment." 

"  But  you  surely  do  not  allege  that  Mr.  De  Gex  resorts 
to  the  use  of  this  little  known  and  unsuspected  poison  in 
order  to  secure  his  own  ends ! "  cried  the  famous  detec- 
tive, as  he  sat  opposite  me  in  an  easy  chair. 

"When  we  know  the  truth — as  I  hope  we  may  very 
soon — then  you  will  be  staggered,"  I  assured  him.  "  At 
present  you  do  not  know  the  whole  of  the  amazing  story. 
For  certain  private  reasons  I  have  been  unable  to  reveal 
it  to  you.  But  slowly,  piece  by  piece,  I  have  been  steadily 
working  upon  the  mystery  of  certain  amazing  occurrences 
at  De  Gex's  house  in  Stretton  Street.  By  slow  degrees, 


296        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

and  after  travelling  up  and  down  Europe,  I  have  at  last 
succeeded  in  finding  just  a  streak  of  daylight  through  the 
impenetrable  barrier  so  cleverly  contrived  in  order  to  mys- 
tify and  mislead  me.  If  you  desire  to  ascertain  the  great 
ramifications  of  the  desperate  plots  conceived  by  De  Gex 
and  his  friends,  and  take  steps  to  combat  them,  it  will  be 
best  to  allow  his  accomplice  Sanz  further  liberty.  Keep 
vigilant  watch,  but  do  not  allow  him  to  suspect,"  I  urged. 
"  He  will  no  doubt  go  to  Stretton  Street  again.  Sanz, 
though  a  hired  assassin  as  was  his  friend  Despujol,  should 
not  be  arrested  yet,  for  the  longer  he  remains  at  liberty 
the  more  extensive  will  be  our  information  against  the 
arch-schemer  of  Europe,  Oswald  De  Gex." 

Rivero  spent  the  evening  with  me.  We  dined  at  the 
Clarendon,  across  Hammersmith  Bridge,  and  afterwards 
we  idled  in  one  of  the  foreign  cafes  near  Piccadilly 
Circus. 

He  was  in  London  with  a  warrant  for  the  arrest  of 
Mateo  Sanz  in  his  pocket.  But  at  my  suggestion  he  stayed 
his  hand.  Meanwhile  Sanz,  all  unsuspecting,  was  being 
carefully  watched,  not  only  by  two  detective-sergeants 
from  Scotland  Yard,  but  also  by  two  Spanish  detectives 
whom  Rivero  had  brought  to  London  with  him. 

Two  days  later,  in  response  to  a  message  from  Rivero, 
I  called  at  the  Hotel  Cecil  on  leaving  the  office.  He  met 
me  in  the  marble-paved  entrance  hall,  and  I  noticed  at 
once  a  grave  expression  upon  his  face. 

"  Come  up  to  my  room,"  he  said  in  French.  "  We  can 
talk  quietly  there." 

In  surprise  I  went  with  him  up  in  the  lift  to  the  third 
floor  where,  in  a  bedroom  which  overlooked  the  Embank- 
ment and  the  Thames  beyond,  he  turned  suddenly  to  me 
and  exclaimed,  still  in  French : 

"  I  am  very  troubled  and  mystified,  Monsieur  Garfield. 
When  you  made  those  curious  allegations  against  Mon- 


A  CURIOUS  STORY  297 

sieur  De  Gex  I  confess  that  I  laughed  them  to  scorn,  but 
I  have  to-day  learned  several  facts  which  put  an  entirely 
fresh  complexion  upon  the  present  circumstances.  Last 
night  Mateo  Sanz  visited  De  Gex  again.  The  financier 
gave  a  musical  evening,  but  after  the  departure  of  all 
the  guests,  Sanz  called  and  was  at  once  admitted  to  De 
Gex's  library." 

"  Ah !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  I  know  that  room.  I  have  sad 
cause  to  remember  it !  " 

"  He  remained  there  till  nearly  two  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing. Then  he  returned  on  foot  to  his  hotel.  My  informa- 
tion is  that  on  his  walk  back  he  was  whistling  to  himself, 
as  though  in  high  spirits." 

"  But  that  is  surely  no  extraordinary  circumstance ! " 
I  remarked.  "  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  De  Gex  is  as 
friendly  with  Sanz  as  he  was  with  Despujol?  " 

"  I  know.  But  in  face  of  other  facts  I  have  learnt,  the 
problem  presented  is  an  amazing  one." 

As  he  spoke  a  tap  came  upon  the  door,  and  a  page-boy 
handed  in  a  card. 

"  Show  the  gentleman  up,"  Rivero  said  in  his  broken 
English. 

"  Here  is  someone  who  will  relate  some  very  strange 
facts.  He  is  my  friend  Gonzalez  Maura,  an  advocate  who 
practised  in  Madrid  before  his  appointment  to  our  Con- 
sulate here.  I  called  at  the  Consulate  yesterday  and  saw 
him,  when  he  related  to  me  some  curious  facts  which  I 
have  asked  him  to  repeat  to  you.  He  is  here  for  that 
purpose." 

A  few  moments  later  the  page-boy  ushered  in  a  middle- 
aged,  well-dressed,  black-bearded  man  who  bowed  ele- 
gantly when  we  were  introduced. 

"  Now,  my  dear  friend,"  exclaimed  Rivero,  when  we 
were  all  three  seated.  "  Will  you  please  tell'  Mr.  Garfield 
what  you  explained  to  me  yesterday." 


298        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  Certainly.  I  merely  tell  you  what  I  know,"  he  re- 
plied in  very  fair  English.  "  It  is  like  this.  Before  I 
left  Madrid  I  was  very  friendly  with  a  country  lawyer 
named  Ruiz  Serrano,  who  lived  at  Valladolid.  For  some 
reason  the  late  Count  de  Chamartin  took  a  great  fancy  to 
my  friend,  and  constituted  him  his  legal  adviser,  an  ap- 
pointment which  brought  him  in  quite  a  large  income. 
To  the  lawyer  of  a  great  financier  fees  are  always  rolling 
in.  The  Count  naturally  took  Sejrrano  into  his  confidence 
and  told  him  how,  years  ago,  he  had  married  the  daugh- 
ter of  an  Englishman  in  rather  humble  circumstances,  liv- 
ing in  Madrid.  A  daughter  was  born  to  them,  but  later 
he  divorced  his  wife,  who  died  soon  afterwards,  and  then 
he  married  a  lady  of  the  Madrid  aristocracy,  the  present 
widow.  Apparently  he  made  a  will  leaving  the  whole  of 
his  fortune  to  his  daughter  by  his  first  wife — save  for  a 
small  annuity  to  his  second  wife — and  according  to  the 
will,  on  the  death  of  his  daughter  the  fortune  was  to  go 
to  his  trusted  partner,  your  English  financier,  Mr.  Oswald 
De  Gex." 

I  sat  staring  at  the  stranger,  but  uttered  no  word,  for 
I  was  reflecting  deeply. 

"  Seiior  Serrano  arrived  in  London  a  week  ago,  and 
came  to  consult  me  regarding  the  will,  because  it  seems 
that  the  Count's  daughter — who  came  here  to  learn  Eng- 
lish, she  having  lived  in  Madrid  all  her  life — is  dead." 

"  Hence  De  Gex  has  inherited  the  Count's  fortune  ?  "  I 
gasped.  "  What  was  the  girl's  name  ?  " 

"  Her  name  was,  of  course,  Chamartin,  but  in  obedi- 
ence to  her  father's  wish,  after  the  divorce  she  took  her 
mother's  maiden  name,  and  was  known  as  Gabrielle 
Engledue." 

"  Gabrielle  Engledue !  "  I  echoed.  "  Gabrielle  Engle- 
due!" 


CHAPTER  THE  TWENTY-EIGHTH 

LOVE   THE   CONQUEROR 

THE  sudden  revelation* of  the  motive  of  the  crime  at 
Stretton  Street  staggered  me. 

An  hour  later  I  saw  the  Count's  lawyer,  Senor  Serrano, 
at  his  hotel  in  Russell  Square,  and  from  him  learned  much 
more  regarding  his  late  client's  disposition  of  his  prop- 
erty. The  Count  had  apparently  not  been  on  very  affec- 
tionate terms  with  his  second  wife,  which  accounted  for 
him  leaving  the  bulk  of  his  fortune  to  his  daughter  Gabri- 
elle,  and  in  case  of  her  death,  to  his  partner  De  Gex, 
whom  he  had,  of  course,  believed  to  be  an  honest  man. 

The  Count  had  died  suddenly  several  months  before 
his  daughter.  He  had  died  from  orosin,  no  doubt  admin- 
istered by  someone  in  De  Gex's  pay.  Then  almost  before 
the  will  could  be  proved  in  the  girl's  favour,  Senor  Ser- 
rano learned  that  the  girl  herself  had  died  in  England. 
Since  then  he  had  been  constantly  occupied  in  straighten- 
ing out  his  late  client's  affairs,  and  had  now  come  to  Lon- 
don for  the  first  time  in  order  to  see  Oswald  De  Gex,  who 
had  been  constantly  pressing  for  a  settlement  of  the  estate. 
He  had  seen  him  on  the  previous  day,  when  he  appeared 
to  be  anxious  that  the  affair  should  be  cleared  up. 

"  As  he  spoke  of  his  late  partner,  and  of  his  daughter, 
tears  came  to  his  eyes,"  said  the  Spanish  lawyer,  speaking 
in  French. 

Tears  in  the  eyes  of  Oswald  De  Gex!  I  smiled  at  the 
thought. 

299 


300        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

As  for  Rivero  he  now  became  just  as  puzzled  as  I  was 
myself. 

To  me  the  motive  of  poor  Gabrielle  Engledue's  death 
was  now  quite  apparent,  and,  moreover,  it  seemed  that 
the  reason  De  Gex  required  a  forged  death  certificate  was 
because  he  was  not  exactly  certain  whether  by  a  post- 
mortem examination  any  trace  of  the  drug  could  be  found. 
He  was  not  quite  sure  that  one  or  other  of  the  great  Lon- 
don pathologists  might  not  identify  orosin.  With  the 
Count's  death  on  the  Continent  he  had  taken  the  risk, 
well  knowing  that  any  ordinary  doctor  would  pronounce 
death  as  being  due  to  heart  failure,  as  indeed  it  was.  In 
London,  however,  he  felt  impelled  to  take  precautions, 
and  they  were  very  elaborate  and  cunning  ones,  as  I  now 
knew. 

With  the  motive  thus  apparent,  I  felt  myself  on  the 
verge  of  triumph.  Yet  without  full  knowledge  of  what 
occurred  to  my  poor  beloved  on  that  night  how  could  I 
denounce  the  arch-criminal  whose  favours  were  now  be- 
ing sought  by  the  great  ones  of  the  land. 

I  was  still  in  a  quandary.  I  had  established  to  my  own 
satisfaction  that  Tito  Moroni,  the  doctor  of  the  Via  Ca- 
vezzo,  was  the  person  who  had  distilled  the  orosin,  and 
who  had  no  doubt  introduced  it  to  his  wealthy  but  un- 
scrupulous patient  as  a  means  of  ridding  himself  of  un- 
wanted persons  and  enriching  himself  at  the  same  time. 
Indeed,  these  facts  were  eventually  proved  up  to  the  hilt. 

The  motives  for  the  deaths  of  the  Conde  de  Chamartin, 
his  daughter,  and  the  philanthropic  Dutch  financier,  were 
all  quite  plain,  but,  of  course,  I  had  said  nothing  to  Rivero, 
or  to  anybody  else,  regarding  my  acceptance  of  a  bribe  to 
assist  De  Gex  in  the  committal  of  a  crime. 

I  confess  that  on  that  night  of  horror  I  had  no  suspi- 
cion of  foul  play,  for  knowing  the  great  financier  as  a  per- 


LOVE  THE  CONQUEROR  301 

son  of  very  high  standing,  I  naturally  believed  the  story 
of  his  niece's  sudden  death.  It  was  not  until  I  found 
myself  in  the  hospital  at  St.  Malo  that  I  realized  how 
cleverly  I  had  been  tricked.  The  drug  had  been  admin- 
istered to  me  in  just  sufficient  dose  to  ensure  that  my  brain 
should  be  affected,  and  that  any  story  I  might  afterwards 
tell  should  be  discredited. 

Happily,  however,  I  had  now  nearly  completely  recov- 
ered. I  was  the  third  person  known  to  return  to  their 
normal  senses  after  a  dose  of  orosin.  Would  there  be  a 
fourth  ? 

Three  further  days  went  past,  watchful,  anxious  days. 
De  Gex  was  still  at  Stretton  Street,  apparently  quite  un- 
conscious that  his  hireling  Sanz  was  being  kept  under 
close  surveillance.  Another  plot  was  in  progress,  without 
a  doubt.  Twice  again  had  the  elusive  Spaniard,  who  was 
such  a  close  friend  of  the  notorious  Despujol,  visited 
Stretton  Street. 

It  seemed,  too,  that  De  Gex,  though  anxious  to  return 
to  Italy,  still  remained  in  London  in  the  hope  that  Senor 
Serrano  would  arrange  for  the  immediate  transfer  of  the 
Count's  property. 

One  could  scarcely  take  up  a  newspaper  without  finding 
that  Oswald  De  Gex  had  attended  this  function  or  that, 
for  he  was  apparently  courting  the  favours  of  certain  high 
political  personages,  no  doubt  with  a  view  to  a  place  in 
the  next  Honours  List. 

I  smiled  within  myself  as  I  read  of  all  the  great  man's 
doings,  of  his  vast  financial  interests,  of  his  estates  in 
England  and  in  Italy,  and  his  assistance  to  the  Ministry 
of  Finance  of  Spain.  Often  indeed  when  at  home  I  dis- 
cussed the  situation  with  Hambledon,  yet  without  the  evi- 
dence of  Gabrielle  Tennison  we  could  not  act. 

Nearly  a  week  had  passed  since  my  first  meeting  with 


302        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

the  Spanish  lawyer  Serrano.  Tito  Moroni  had  appar- 
ently returned  to  Italy,  for  he  had  not  been  again  to  Stret- 
ton  Street.  His  last  visit  there  had  no  doubt  resulted  in 
a  quarrel  with  his  wealthy  client,  whom  I  had  suspicions 
he  was  blackmailing,  for  such  would  undoubtedly  be  the 
procedure  of  a  blackguard  of  his  calibre.  More  than  once 
Rivero  seemed  anxious  to  secure  the  arrest  of  Mateo 
Sanz,  but  I  constantly  urged  him  to  remain  patient.  He 
frequently  begged  me  to  reveal  the  true  extent  of  my 
knowledge,  but  I  always  evaded  his  questions  because  I 
was  not  yet  in  a  position  to  make  a  triumphant  coup,  and 
avenge  poor  Gabrielle. 

Daily,  hourly  indeed,  was  she  in  my  thoughts.  The  let- 
ters I  received  from  Lyons  were  the  reverse  of  hopeful. 
The  last  one  indeed  reported  that  little  or  no  progress  had 
been  noted  during  the  weeks  she  had  been  under  the  care 
of  the  kindly  old  professor. 

One  evening,  on  returning  from  the  office,  I  found  upon 
the  hall-table  a  note  in  Mrs.  Tennison's  well-known  hand. 
It  had  been  written  from  Longridge  Road  a  few  hours  be- 
fore, and  in  it  she  asked  me  to  call  that  evening  as  they 
had  returned  from  France. 

Naturally  I  lost  no  time  in  dashing  over  to  Earl's  Court, 
and  with  failing  heart  I  entered  the  well-remembered 
artistic  little  drawing-room  where  Gabrielle  herself,  in  a 
cool  frock  of  cream  washing  silk  trimmed  with  narrow 
edgings  of  jade  green,  rose  smiling  to  greet  me. 

Her  face  was  changed,  for  her  countenance  was  now 
bright  and  vivacious,  and  her  eyes  merry  and  sparkling. 
The  hard  set  expression  had  gone,  and  she  looked  very 
alert  and  indescribably  sweet. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Garfield ! "  she  cried  merrily,  shaking  my 
hand  in  warm  welcome,  so  different  from  her  usual  apa- 
thetic attitude  towards  me.  "  You  see  we're  back  again ! 


LOVE  THE  CONQUEROR  303 

Mother  has  just  gone  round  to  Aunt  Alice's  in  Cromwell 
Road,  but  she  told  me  that  you  would  call." 

"  Well,  Miss  Tennison !  "  I  exclaimed,  holding  her  soft 
little  hand  in  mine,  and  looking  into  her  eyes.  "  I  hope — 
I  hope  that  you  feel  better.  Indeed,  you  look  quite 
changed ! " 

"  Yes.  I  can  recollect  everything  now !  All  the  past 
has  come  back  to  me,  thanks  to  the  old  Professor.  He 
was  so  very  kind,  and  so  patient  that  I  can  never  thank 
him  sufficiently — or  you,  Mr.  Garfield,  for  discovering 
him.  I  feel  quite  myself  again.  And  it  was  all  so  sud- 
den. At  first,  the  treatment  gave  me  no  relief,  my  brain 
seemed  so  muddled,  but  quite  suddenly  one  day  I  found 
that  I  could  recollect  the  past — all  that  happened  to  me 
on  that  terrible  night.  And  in  three  days  the  Professor 
announced  that  I  had  quite  recovered !  " 

My  heart  leapt  with  joy!    She  was  cured! — cured! 

"  Tell  me  all  that  you  recollect  regarding  the  events  of 
that  night,"  I  urged  breathlessly  as  we  sat  together  in  the 
little  London  drawing-room.  I  looked  at  her  countenance 
and  realized  now  that  it  was  full  of  life  and  animation, 
how  very  beautiful  she  was.  How  different  from  when  I 
had  seen  her  half  dragged  along  the  streets  of  Florence 
by  her  pretended  friend  Moroni. 

But  justice  was  at  hand.  So  I  urged  her  to  tell  me 
exactly  what  happened.  I  give  it  to  you,  my  reader,  in 
my  love's  own  words,  just  as  she  related  it  to  me. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  drawing  a  long  breath.  "  One  night 
about  twelve  months  ago  I  was  at  a  private  dance  at  the 
house  of  a  friend  in  Holland  Park,  when  I  was  intro- 
duced to  a  young  married  woman  named  Cullerton,  the 
wife  of  a  man  on  the  Stock  Exchange.  I  rather  liked 
her,  and  as  she  invited  me  to  a  small  dance  which  she 
gave  a  week  later  we  soon  became  friends.  One  day, 


304        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

while  we  were  walking  together  in  Bond  Street  we  met 
Mr.  De  Gex,  the  great  financier,  to  whom  she  introduced 
me.  His  car  was  standing  at  the  kerb,  so  he  took  us  back 
to  tea  at  his  house  in  Stretton  Street.  While  we  were  at 
tea  a  tall,  dark  Spanish-looking  girl  came  in  and  was  in- 
troduced to  us  as  Gabrielle  Engledue.  As  we  sat  at  tea 
we  laughed  over  the  similarity  of  our  names,  and  she  told 
me  that  though  her  mother  had  been  English  she  had 
lived  all  her  life  in  Madrid,  and  had  been  over  here  for 
the  purpose  of  studying  English.  She  had  been  staying 
with  a  family  somewhere  in  Essex,  but  was  now  at  an 
hotel  in  London,  for  she  was  returning  to  Madrid  in  a  few 
days.  I  rather  liked  her,  and  as  Mr.  De  Gex  was  charm- 
ing to  us  both,  I  accepted  his  invitation  to  dine  there  a  few 
days  later.  I  did  not  tell  mother  about  this,  for  I  feared 
that  being  rather  old-fashioned  she  might  disapprove  of 
my  new  friendships.  We  had  a  delightful  dinner,  and 
Mr.  De  Gex  took  us  all  three  to  the  theatre  afterwards, 
and  drove  each  of  us  home.  I  was  the  first,  and  he  put 
me  down  at  the  corner  of  Earl's  Court  Road. 

"  On  the  night  of  November  the  seventh  at  very  short 
notice  Mr.  De  Gex  had  again  invited  Miss  Engledue  and 
myself  through  Mrs.  Cullerton  to  dinner,  for  she  was 
leaving  for  Madrid  next  day,  her  luggage  having  already 
been  sent  to  the  station  cloak-room,  she  told  me.  We  un- 
derstood that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cullerton  were  also  coming. 
We  did  not  put  on  dinner-dresses  as  Mr.  De  Gex  said  he 
intended  to  take  us  to  a  show  at  Olympia  afterwards.  I 
was,  I  know,  foolish  not  to  tell  mother  where  I  was  going, 
but  the  reason  for  it  I  have  already  explained.  When  I 
arrived  at  Stretton  Street,  after  my  dancing  lesson,  Gabri- 
elle Engledue  was  already  there  chatting  with  Mr.  De 
Gex  in  the  library.  He  told  me  that  he  had  just  received 
a  telephone  message  from  Mr.  Cullerton  saying  that  his 


LOVE  THE  CONQUEROR  305 

wife  had  been  taken  rather  unwell  and  therefore  could 
not  come.  So  we  three  sat  down,  the  only  other  guest 
being  a  man  I  now  recollect  as  one  who  afterwards  proved 
my  friend,  Doctor  Moroni. 

"  The  meal  was  quite  a  merry  one  for  Mr.  De  Gex  was 
quite  a  lady's  man  when  his  wife  was  absent.  At  that 
time  I  understood  that  Mrs.  De  Gex  was  remaining  in 
Italy.  The  meal  was  served  by  a  man  whom  the  great 
financier  addressed  as  Horton,  and  just  before  coffee  was 
brought  in  I  recollect  that  Moroni  left  the  table  and  went 
to  the  telephone.  Then,  on  his  return,  the  man  Horton 
brought  in  the  cups  which  were  already  filled.  The  man 
put  down  a  cup  before  me,  but  De  Gex  noticing  that  it 
was  a  little  too  full,  politely  exchanged  his  for  mine. 

"  We  were  chatting,  and  Mr.  De  Gex  had  just  said 
that  it  was  about  time  we  were  off  to  Olympia,  when  I 
sipped  my  coffee.  I  noticed  that  both  Doctor  Moroni  and 
our  host  glanced  at  me  curiously.  The  coffee  tasted  un- 
usually sweet,  and  also  it  seemed  to  be  slightly  perfumed, 
I  remember,  almost  like  pot-pourri.  I  had  just  replaced 
the  cup  upon  the  table  when  I  felt  a  most  violent  pain  in 
my  head,  and  cried  out.  Miss  Engledue  was  at  my  side 
in  an  instant,  but  I  felt  a  sensation  of  giddiness,  and  next 
moment  I  knew  nothing  more." 

I  remained  silent  for  a  few  seconds,  thinking  deeply 
over  her  remarkable  story. 

"Then  Miss  Engledue  was  quite  well  at  the  time?" 
I  asked. 

"  Quite,  she  sprang  to  my  assistance." 

"  Then  you  were  taken  ill  before  she  became  similarly 
affected?" 

"  Was  she  ?  I  did  not  know  that !  "  said  my  beloved  in 
surprise. 

"  Yes.     You  were   rendered  unconscious  by  a  drug 


306        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

which  produced  all  the  symptoms  of  death,  but  Miss 
Engledue  was  afterwards  deliberately  killed." 

Gabrielle  stared  at  me  as  though  she  believed  that  I  was 
bereft  of  my  senses. 

"  Was  Gabrielle  Engledue  killed  ?  "  she  gasped.  "Surely 
she  was  not !  " 

"  She  was,"  I  replied.  "  And  her  body  was  afterwards 
cremated ! " 

My  beloved  gave  vent  to  a  shriek  of  horror — and  what 
more  natural?  She  now  realized,  for  the  first  time,  that 
she  had  been  the  victim  of  a  clever  and  amazing  plot. 

"  I  recollect,"  she  said,  "  that  just  at  the  moment  of  my 
sudden  seizure  I  seemed  to  become  fascinated  by  the  gor- 
geous Spanish  shawl  which  Gabrielle  Engledue  had 
around  her  shoulders.  It  was  a  most  beautifully  embroid- 
ered silk  shawl  with  long,  heavy  fringe,  and  flowers 
worked  in  red,  green  and  gold  upon  a  silk  fabric.  I  had 
been  admiring  it  all  the  time  I  sat  at  the  table,  but  the 
colours  seemed  so  dazzling  as  to  bewilder  me,  to  muddle 
my  senses — red,  green  and  gold." 

How  often  had  those  words  of  hers  puzzled  me !  Now 
I  knew  the  truth !  That  magnificent  Spanish  shawl  had 
stood  out  in  her  recollection  as  the  last  object  she  had 
seen  before  the  deadly  orosin  had  clone  its  work. 

Then  I  told  her  my  own  story. 

"  I  was  inveigled  by  a  specious  story  into  that  house 
soon  after  you  had  sipped  your  coffee — perhaps  even  be- 
fore," I  said.  "The  library  was  filled  with  a  curious, 
overpowering  perfume  of  pot-pourri  which  overcame  me, 
and  then  De  Gex  gave  me  a  liqueur  glass  of  brandy  into 
which  there  had  been  introduced  that  most  baneful  of  all 
drugs  orosin !  It  took  immediate  effect  upon  me,  and  a 
few  moments  later  I  was  shown  you  lying  upon  the  bed, 
as  though  you  were  dead!  Indeed,  I  believed  you  to  be 


LOVE  THE  CONQUEROR  307 

dead,  and  in  the  muddled  state  of  my  brain  I  actually  gave 
a  certificate  with  which  that  fiend  De  Gex  had  already 
provided  himself.  I  declared  that  you  had  died  of  heart 
disease,  a  malady  for  which  I  had  for  some  months 
treated  you ! " 

"  But  I  knew  nothing  more  until  I  was  found  on  the 
road  in  Hampshire,"  she  said. 

"  And  I  knew  nothing  more  until  I  found  myself  in  a 
hospital  over  at  St.  Malo,"  I  went  on.  "  The  drug  orosin 
in  small  doses  destroys  the  memory ;  in  large  doses  it  pro- 
duces an  effect  of  death,  and  in  still  larger  ones — like  that 
administered  to  your  friend  the  Anglo-Spanish  girl  Miss 
Engledue — causes  instant  death,  with  no  symptoms  that 
the  post-mortem  can  distinguish  other  than  the  natural 
cause  of  sudden  heart  failure." 

"  Was  I  given  the  drug  deliberately  ?  "  asked  Gabrielle, 
looking  at  me  with  her  wonderful  wide-open  eyes — eyes 
so  different  from  those  dulled  fixed  ones  which  I  had  seen 
in  the  Duomo  in  old  Florence,  when  she  had  raised  her- 
self from  praying  in  her  half-demented  state  while  the 
sinister  Italian  doctor  stood  behind  her. 

"  Yes,"  I  said.  "  De  Gex  passed  his  coffee  cup  to  you, 
smiling  and  without  compunction,  well  knowing  the  effect 
it  must  have  upon  you,  at  the  same  time  his  intention 
being  to  kill  your  friend  Miss  Engledue  by  administering 
a  stronger  dose.  This  must  have  been  accomplished  by 
the  infection  of  some  wound  or  slight  abrasion  of  the 
skin  so  that  the  drug  should  be  introduced  directly  into 
the  system  and  not  by  the  mouth.  Such  a  method  would 
cause  almost  instant  death." 

"  But  did  Gabrielle  Engledue  die  ?  "  she  asked  excit- 
edly. 

"  Yes.     She  did.     And  by  her  death  De  Gex  inherits 


308        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

the  fortune  of  her  father,  a  rich  Spaniard,  the  Conde  de 
Chamartin." 

She  looked  at  me  utterly  bewildeed,  and  well  the  poor 
girl  might  be.  She  now  realized  that  she  had  been  the  vic- 
tim of  an  amazing  plot  conceived  by  a  master  criminal, 
who  was  at  the  same  time  immensely  wealthy,  yet  who 
cared  nothing  for  human  life  so  long  as  he  amassed  a 
colossal  fortune. 

"  All  this,  Mr.  Garfield,  is  most  astounding !  "  she  de- 
clared, gazing  with  bewilderment  around  the  room.  "  It 
seems  incredible !  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Tennison,  I  know  it  does,"  I  replied.  "  But 
have  patience,  and  I  will  prove  to  you  the  true  depth  of 
the  villainy  of  our  mutual  enemy  and  his  well-paid  syco- 
phants." 

Then,  of  a  sudden,  I  grasped  her  soft  hand  in  mine  and 
for  a  few  seconds  held  it.  I  looked  steadily  into  her  won- 
derful eyes,  and  then  slowly  I  raised  her  hand  to  my  lips 
and  kissed  it. 

"  Gabrielle,"  I  whispered,  bending  to  her  in  deep  ear- 
nestness. "  My  triumph  over  your  enemies  is  yours — 
yours!  Wait,  and  I  will  reveal  to  you  the  whole  facts — 
facts  more  astounding  than  have  ever  been  conceived  in 
the  most  sensational  pages  of  modern  fiction." 

She  did  not  withdraw  her  hand,  and  by  her  inert  atti- 
tude, I  realized  with  indescribable  joy  that  she  really 
reciprocated  my  love ! 

I  am  not  an  emotional  man,  neither  am  I  an  ideal  lover. 
I  am  only  a  mere  man-of-the-world.  Hence  perhaps  the 
reader  will  forgive  me  if  I  fail  to  describe  all  the  ecstasy 
of  affection  which  I  experienced  at  that  moment. 

I  loved  Gabrielle  Tennison  with  all  my  soul,  and  I  now 
knew  that  she  loved  me.  That  surely  was  all-sufficient ! 

With  Gabrielle  I  had  been  a  fellow-victim  of  a  deeply 


LOVE  THE  CONQUEROR  309 

laid  and  most  foul  plot.  That  I  had  been  purposely 
marked  down  with  the  aid  of  De  Gex's  accomplice  and 
sycophant,  Gaston  Suzor,  was  made  more  than  plain  as  I 
pursued  my  inquiries. 

The  plot  by  which  De  Gex  had  hoped  to  secure  his 
partner's  fortune  was  indeed  worthy  the  evil  ever-schem- 
ing mind  of  the  mystery-man  of  Europe ;  the  man  whose 
unseen  influence  made  itself  felt  in  every  great  political 
move  on  the  Continent — the  man  whose  hundred  agents 
were  ready  in  secret  to  do  his  bidding  and  perform  any 
dirty  work  for  payment. 

After  the  Conde  de  Chamartin  had  been  secretly  at- 
tacked in  the  train  on  his  way  to  Paris  and  had  died  in 
the  hospital  at  San  Sebastian,  Oswald  De  Gex  suddenly 
found  to  his  dismay  that  whatever  claim  he  made  upon 
his  late  partner's  estate,  practically  the  whole  would  go 
to  his  daughter.  Therefore,  while  being  a  little  appre- 
hensive lest  orosin  could  be  detected  in  a  body  after  death 
by  an  expert  pathologist,  he  resorted  to  that  elaborate  and 
remarkable  plot  in  order  to  exhibit  to  me  what  I  pre- 
sumed to  be  the  body  of  Gabrielle  Engledue,  and  induce 
me  to  forge  a  death  certificate  in  the  name  of  a  doctor 
whose  surname  was  the  same  as  my  own. 

The  fact  that  he  had  actually  provided  himself  with  a 
genuine  sheet  of  the  doctor's  notepaper,  and  that — as  I 
now  learnt  for  the  first  time— Moroni  was  actually  in  the 
house  when  the  drug  was  given  to  Gabrielle  and  myself 
prior  to  the  death  of  the  chief  victim,  showed  the  utter 
callousness  of  the  crime.  Indeed,  Gabrielle  Engledue  was 
actually  witness  of  my  beloved's  mysterious  seizure,  little 
dreaming  that  in  a  short  hour  she  herself  would  fall  vic- 
tim to  the  cupidity  of  that  relentless  poisoner  who,  by  his 
crimes,  hoped  to  amass  one  of  the  most  colossal  fortunes 
in  the  world. 


310         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

I  sat  with  Gabrielle  discussing  the  amazing  affair  until 
darkness  slowly  fell.  I  told  her  of  my  own  astounding 
adventures,  and  my  narrow  escape  from  death  in  Madrid, 
to  all  of  which  she  listened  with  breathless  interest. 

Then,  rising,  I  took  her  hand  again,  and  with  whispered 
words  I  pressed  my  lips  to  hers  for  the  first  time  in  a  long 
but  sacred  caress. 

She  sighed.  I  felt  her  quiver  as  I  pressed  her  to  me, 
and  then  to  my  delight  I  felt  her  sweet  warm  lips  cling  at 
last  affectionately  to  mine. 


CHAPTER  THE  TWENTY-NINTH 

ANOTHER   PLOT 

AMONG  my  letters  on  the  following  morning  was  a  small 
packet  which  I  opened.  Within  was  a  tablet  of  dark- 
brown  toilet-soap  bearing  the  name  of  a  well-known  firm 
of  manufacturers.  With  it  was  a  typewritten  letter  upon 
dark-blue  commercial  paper  with  a  printed  heading.  I 
was  addressed  as  "  H.  Granfield,  Esq.,"  and  the  letter 
proved  to  be  a  polite  intimation  that  as  the  firm  in  ques- 
tion was  putting  on  to  the  market  a  new  brand  of  toilet- 
soap,  they  begged  me  to  accept  with  their  compliments 
the  enclosed  sample.  I  was  also  informed  that,  if  1  liked 
it,  I  could  purchase  it  of  their  agents,  a  certain  firm  of 
chemists  in  King  Street,  Hammersmith. 

"  Looks  rather  decent  soap ! "  remarked  Harry  as  I 
passed  it  to  him,  and  then  I  re-wrapped  it  in  its  paper  and 
placed  it  aside. 

At  eleven  o'clock  I  sat  with  Rivero,  Gabrielle  and  Harry 
Hambledon  in  the  dull  reception-room  at  Scotland  Yard, 
that  same  room  wherein  I  had  given  information  concern- 
ing the  whereabouts  of  Mateo  Sanz. 

The  Superintendent  who  received  us  was  a  well-dressed 
courtly  man,  rather  stout  and  elderly,  who  became  in- 
tensely interested  when  I  related  the  whole  story,  much  as 
I  have  set  it  down  in  the  foregoing  pages. 

The  consultation  was  a  momentous  one.  Rivero  sat 
amazed  when  I  described  my  chance  meeting  with  Gaston 
Suzor,  and  the  clever  manner  in  which  I  had  been  in- 
veigled into  De  Gex's  house  in  Stretton  Street.  Indeed, 


312         THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

on  comparing  Gabrielle's  story  with  my  own,  I  now  saw 
that  at  the  time  I  entered  the  house  both  she  and  the  girl 
Engledue  were  in  their  normal  health.  The  coffee  had 
not  then  been  served  though  Moroni  had  gone  out  of  the 
room,  no  doubt  to  put  the  drug  into  the  cup  which  was 
to  be  offered  to  Gabrielle  Tennison,  and  which  appar- 
ently was  placed  by  mistake  before  the  mystery  man  him- 
self. Or  else  the  changing  of  the  cups  was  to  allay  any 
suspicion  that  might  arise  in  the  mind  of  the  other  victim, 
which  was  perhaps  most  likely. 

According  to  Gabrielle,  it  seemed  that  at  the  moment 
of  her  seizure  Horton  re-entered  the  room  and  said  some 
words  in  a  low  tone  to  his  master,  whereupon  the  latter 
rose,  left  the  table,  and  evidently  went  to  greet  me,  leav- 
ing Gabrielle  in  Miss  Engledue's  care. 

Horton,  even  though  he  had  been  engaged  in  serving 
the  dinner  at  the  rear  of  the  house,  was  apparently  also 
on  the  look-out  for  me,  rnd  now  I  recollected  that  on  my 
journey  down  from  York,  I  had  mentioned  to  Suzor  my 
habit  of  going  to  visit  my  uncle  in  Orchard  Street  on  cer- 
tain evenings.  He  had  asked  me  to  dine  with  him  on  the 
seventh,  but  I  had  excused  myself  as  my  uncle  would 
expect  me  that  evening.  He  evidently  held  previous 
knowledge  that  the  route  I  habitually  took  was  through 
Stretton  Steet,  hence  the  plot  to  get  me  within  that  house. 
Besides,  it  was  quite  likely  that  Suzor  himself  was  watch- 
ing for  me  and  had  sent  Horton  out  to  call  me.  In  any 
case,  the  plot  had  been  well-timed  and  elaborately  thought 
out. 

The  fact  was  plain  that  Gabrielle  Engledue,  who  had 
sent  her  luggage  to  the  station  cloak-room  and  was  about 
to  return  to  Madrid,  was  killed,  probably  by  the  scratch 
of  a  pin  upon  which  orosin  had  been  placed. 

"  All  this  is  most  astounding,"  declared  Superintendent 


ANOTHER  PLOT  313 

Fletcher.  "  Of  course,  De  Gex  contrived  that  no  inquiry 
would  be  made  concerning  the  dead  girl.  He  might  have 
shown  you  the  body  of  Miss  Engledue,  but  he  had  some 
motive  in  keeping  it  from  you,  and  obtaining  a  death  cer- 
tificate for  the  girl  who  was  still  living." 

"  The  motive  was  that  he  was  not  quite  certain  whether 
the  orosin  could  be  detected.  Since  then  he  has  grown 
bolder,  as  witness  the  murder  of  the  Baron  van  Veltrup," 
I  replied. 

"  But  why  should  he  not  have  shown  you  the  dead 
girl  ?  "  queried  the  Superintendent. 

"  Because  he  no  doubt  wished  to  mystify  me  in  case 
of  my  recovery  from  the  effects  of  the  drug,"  was  my 
reply.  "  He  was  not  quite  certain  of  the  effect  that  the 
dose  might  have  upon  me,  so  in  order  to  entirely  mislead 
me,  so  that  if  I  recovered  my  statements  would  be  dis- 
credited, he  showed  me  a  girl  who  was  still  living,  though 
to  all  intents  dead.  Indeed,  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion 
that,  aided  by  Moroni,  he  purposely  contrived  that  I 
should  meet  and  recognize  in  Miss  Tennison  the  girl  I 
had  been  told  was  the  dead  girl  Gabrielle  Engledue.  And 
I  confess  that  I  have  been  sorely  puzzled  all  along  that 
the  girl  whom  I  had  seen  dead  was  actually  alive,  even 
though  her  mental  state  was  such  as  to  show  that  she  had 
met  with  foul  play." 

"  Yes,"  remarked  Rivero.  "  The  plot  was  very  cun- 
ningly conceived,  especially  the  manner  in  which  you  were 
entrapped  and  induced  to  give  the  certificate." 

"  Here  is  the  money  which  De  Gex  gave  me  for  my 
share  in  the  crime,"  I  said  openly,  laying  the  bank  notes 
upon  the  Superintendent's  table.  "  I  suppose  some  action 
will  be  taken  against  me,  but  I  am  prepared  to  take  the 
consequences,  now  that  I  have  unmasked  one  of  the  great- 
est and  most  dangerous  criminals  of  modern  times." 


314        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

"  You  certainly  have  done  that,  Mr.  Garfield,"  re- 
marked Superintenedent  Fletcher.  "  And  I  venture  to 
think  that  the  part  which  you  have  played  in  solving  this 
problem  will  be  taken  into  account  when  your  own  actions 
are  considered." 

"  It  ^seems  to  me,"  remarked  Rivero,  "  that  the  reason 
the  poison-maker,  Moroni,  evinced  such  a  keen  interest 
in  Miss  Tennison,  and  his  reason  for  taking  her  to  a 
number  of  specialists  was  solely  in  order  to  gain  their 
opinions  and  so  further  study  the  effects  of  the  deadly 
drug  which  he  prepared." 

"  I  have  learnt,"  I  said,  "  that  Moroni  was  the  labora- 
tory assistant  of  the  late  Professor  Orosi,  the  discoverer 
of  the  drug." 

"  Ah !  Then  of  course  he  knows  the  secret  of  its  prep- 
aration, how  to  administer  it,  and  in  what  doses,"  re- 
marked Fletcher. 

"  Even  to-day,"  I  said,  "I  have  had  yet  another  attempt 
upon  my  life  made  by  these  scoundrels,"  and  from  my 
pocket  I  drew  the  little  packet  containing  the  sample  cake 
of  toilet-soap,  which  I  displayed  to  them  all.  Then, 
handling  it  in  the  thick  brown  paper  wrapping,  I  took  my 
pocket-knife  and  scraped  the  soap,  quickly  revealing  a 
number  of  sharp  steel  points  imbedded  in  it. 

*'  You  see  there  are  sharp  clippings  in  it !  Each  has  no 
doubt  been  treated  with  orosin !  "  I  said.  "  Had  I  washed 
my  hands  with  it  as  a  trial,  they  would  have  become 
scratched  and  infected  with  the  deadly  poison  before  I 
was  aware  of  it." 

"  Sanz  has  no  doubt  sent  you  that !  "  remarked  Rivero 
instantly. 

"  Well,  Hugh,  it  is  certainly  a  providential  escape  that 
you  discovered  in  time  this  latest  plot  against  you ! "  ex- 


ANOTHER  PLOT  315 

claimed  Gabrielle.    "  Really  the  craft  and  cunning  of  De 
Gex  is  without  limit." 

"  But  I  think,  Miss  Tennison,  that  you  need  have  noth- 
ing further  to  fear  from  him,"  said  the  Superintendent 
with  satisfaction.  "  He  has  no  doubt,  very  powerful 
friends,  and  if  the  evidence  were  not  so  damning  and 
direct  as  that  collected  after  so  much  patience  and  perse- 
verance by  Mr.  Garfield,  he  might  perhaps  wriggle  out 
of  it.  But  once  we  have  him  he  can  hope  for  no  escape," 
he  added.  "  And  we  shall  arrest  him  before  an  hour  is 
out.  Fortunately  he  is  still  quite  unsuspicious,  though  his 
chief  fear  is  of  Mr.  Garfield,  and  of  the  ugly  revelations 
which  either  Moroni  or  Sanz  could  make.  Nevertheless 
we  shall  see !  " 


CONCLUSION 

JUST  after  noon  I  accompanied  Superintendent  Fletcher 
and  Senor  Rivero  with  three  detectives  from  Scotland 
Yard  to  the  little  hotel  at  Netting  Hill  Gate,  where  Mateo 
Sanz  was  then  staying,  for  he  had  twice  changed  his  abode 
within  the  past  week.  Rivero  saw  the  proprietor,  and  giv- 
ing his  name  as  Sanchez  Orozco,  a  well-known  criminal 
and  friend  of  his,  asked  to  see  his  visitor  who  we  knew 
had  taken  the  name  of  Nardiz,  and  represented  himself 
as  an  agent  of  a  firm  of  Spanish  wine  exporters. 

Mention  of  the  name  of  Orozco  at  once  brought  the 
much-sought-after  bandit  downstairs,  and  as  he  entered 
the  little  sitting-room  Rivero  covered  him  instantly  with 
his  automatic  pistol,  shouting  to  him  authoritatively  in 
Spanish. 

The  notorious  bandit  staggered,  so  completely  was  he 
taken  aback. 

"  You  know  me,  Sanz !  "  exclaimed  Rivero.  "  You  are 
under  arrest.  Now  tell  me  who  prepared  that  cake  of 
soap  which  you  sent  to  Mr.  Garfield  ?  " 

The  question  was  quite  an  unorthodox  procedure  in 
English  justice.  But  it  was  the  Chief  of  the  Spanish 
Detective  Department  who  had  arrested  a  Spanish  crim- 
inal. 

"  Find  out,"  was  the  fellow's  defiant  retort. 

"  It  was  Oswald  De  Gex,"  said  Rivero.  "  You  won't 
deny  that!  You  may  as  well  tell  the  truth,  and  things 
may  go  better  with  you.  He  was  DespujoPs  friend,  as 
well  as  yours — was  he  not  ?  " 

316 


CONCLUSION  317 

"  Yes,"  the  dark-faced  man  admitted  sullenly.  "  We 
have  both  done  his  dirty  work — and  Moroni  assisted  him." 

"  You  sent  that  soap  to  Mr.  Garfield — eh?  " 

The  man  under  arrest  with  Rivero's  pistol  still  pointed 
at  him  nodded  in  the  affirmative. 

"  And  you  went  to  The  Hague  and  there  met  the  Baron 
van  Veltrup.  You  put  that  little  piece  of  steel  into  his 
glove.  I  know  that  you  did,"  Rivero  went  on  relent- 
lessly. 

"  Yes.    De  Gex  paid  me  for  it,"  was  his  reply. 

"As  he  paid  Despujol — eh?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Rivero.  "  I  will  note  your  re- 
plies. De  Gex  is  expecting  you  to  call  upon  him  to-day, 
is  he  not  ?  " 

"  Yes.  At  one  o'clock.  I  was  to  receive  some  money," 
he  laughed  grimly. 

The  Spaniard  having  been  taken  away  in  a  taxi  to 
Bow  Street  Police  Station,  together  with  his  luggage,  we 
went  on  to  Stretton  Street. 

"  Mr.  De  Gex  is  not  in,"  replied  the  man-servant  who 
appeared  in  answer  to  my  ring. 

"  Never  mind,"  I  said.  "  My  friends  and  I  have  some 
business  with  him."  And  I  walked  into  that  big  familiar 
hall,  followed  by  Superintendent  Fletcher,  Sefior  Rivero, 
and  two  detectives. 

"  We  have  a  meeting  here,"  I  explained  casually  to  the 
smart  man-servant  who  in  surprise  at  our  sudden  entry 
showed  us  to  the  library,  that  same  room  in  which  I  re- 
membered sitting  on  that  fateful  November  night. 

It  was  nearly  a  year  ago  since  I  had  last  been  in  that 
big,  handsomely  furnished  apartment.  I  did  not  remain 
there,  for  it  was  my  intention  to  greet  my  would-be  mur- 


318        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

derer  on  his  return.     Therefore  I  went  to  the  hall  and 
there  awaited  him. 

Just  before  one  o'clock  he  entered  with  his  latchkey, 
and  he  having  closed  the  door  I  stepped  forward  in  his 
path. 

"  I  think  you  know  me — Mr.  De  Gex !  "  I  exclaimed 
very  firmly,  my  eyes  fixed  on  him. 

He  started,  and  for  a  second  went  pale.  Then  in  indig- 
nation, he  exclaimed: 

"  Who  are  you?    What  are  you  doing  here?  " 

"  I  am  here  to  see  you,  Mr.  De  Gex,"  I  replied  quite 
calmly. 

"  I  don't  know  you,"  he  declared  angrily. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  I  laughed.  "  But  there  are  others  with 
me  here  who  wish  to  speak  a  few  words  with  you." 

As  I  said  this  Superintendent  Fletcher  stepped  forward, 
while  behind  him  came  the  others. 

"Mr.  Oswald  De  Gex?"  he  asked.  "Is  that  your 
name  ?  " 

The  owner  of  the  big  mansion  went  pale  to  the.  lips, 
and  muttered  an  affirmative. 

"  I  hold  a  warrant  for  your  arrest  on  the  charge  of  the 
wilful  murder  of  Gabrielle  Engledue  on  the  seventh  of 
November  last,"  said  the  Superintendent.  "  Your  accom- 
plice Sanz  is  already  under  arrest,  I  may  tell  you,  and 
orders  have  gone  out  to  Paris  and  to  Florence  for  the 
arrest  of  your  friends  Suzor  and  Moroni."  Then  turn- 
ing to  his  lieutenants,  he  gave  orders  for  the  great  finan- 
cier to  be  secured. 

So  utterly  aghast  was  the  guilty  man  at  our  sudden 
appearance,  and  the  terrible  charge  levelled  against  him, 
that  he  was  quite  unable  to  speak.  He  tried  to  articulate, 
to  protest,  but  his  tongue  seemed  tied.  Only  a  low, 
gurgling  sound  escaped  his  lips,  and  the  next  second  he 


CONCLUSION  319 

had  collapsed  into  the  arms  of  the  detectives  who  half 
carried  him  out  to  the  taxi  which  stood  near  by  in 
readiness. 

He  was  placed  in  a  cell  at  Bow  Street  to  await  his 
appearance  before  the  stipendiary  on  the  following  day, 
but  an  hour  later  when  the  warder  went  to  him  he  found 
him  dead.  Upon  the  thumb  of  his  left  hand  was  a  slight 
punctured  wound. 

Rather  than  face  a  trial  and  the  penalty  for  his  crimes, 
he  had  killed  himself  by  that  same  most  deadly  drug  by 

which  he  had  sought  to  enrich  himself. 

***** 

Next  day  all  the  world  rang  with  the  sensational  news 
of  the  arrest  and  suicide  of  the  mighty  millionaire  of 
Europe,  but  De  Gex  had  many  influential  friends,  hence 
to  the  public  the  actual  truth  was  never  disclosed. 

Mateo  Sanz  was  extradited  to  Spain,  where  at  the 
Assize  Court  at  Madrid  he  was,  six  months  later,  sen- 
tenced to  death  and  in  due  course  executed,  while  Moroni, 
after  many  delays,  as  is  usual  in  the  Italian  Courts,  was 
sentenced  to  fifteen  years'  imprisonment  for  being  in  the 
possession  of  orosin,  and  also  attempting  to  administer 
it.  The  charge  against  him  of  having  had  a  hand  in  the 
heartless  murder  of  poor  Gabrielle  Engledue  was  unfor- 
tunately not  substantiated  for  lack  of  evidence. 

Though  the  police  are  still  seeking  everywhere  for 
Gaston  Suzor,  he  has  not  up  to  the  present  been  found. 
They,  however,  do  not  despair  of  arresting  him. 

At  first  it  was  resolved  to  seek  the  man-servant  Horton 
and  arrest  him,  but  as  it  seemed  that  he  had  had  no  actual 
hand  in  the  girl's  assassination,  and  as,  moreover,  the 
murderer  had  committed  suicide,  his  evidence  was  not 
required,  the  hue-and-cry  after  him  was  dropped. 

And  myself? 


320        THE  STRETTON  STREET  AFFAIR 

What  need  I  say,  except  that  to-day  I  am  extremely 
happy.  Owing  to  the  sudden  great  rise  of  some  securities 
which  my  father  left  me  I  later  found  myself  quite  well 
off.  Indeed,  upon  the  death  of  old  Mr.  Francis  a  few 
months  ago,  I  was  able  to  purchase  a  partnership  in  the 
firm,  and  I  am  thankful  to  say  we  are  doing  quite  well 
in  face  of  the  strenuous  competition  in  electrical  en- 
gineering. 

Gabrielle  Tennison,  the  sweet,  open-hearted  girl  whom 
I  first  met  under  such  extraordinary  circumstances,  is  now 
my  wife.  We  live  very  happily  in  a  charming,  old- 
world  farmhouse  embowered  in  roses  and  honeysuckle, 
on  the  Portsmouth  Road  at  Cobham,  in  Surrey. 

Life  nowadays  is  one  of  idyllic  bliss,  of  perfect  love 
and  undisturbed  peace,  different  indeed  from  that  fevered 
year  of  struggle,  adventure,  travel  and  unrest  during 
which  I  strove  so  steadily  and  with  all  my  might  to  avenge 
the  crimes  of  Oswald  De  Gex,  and  to  unravel  that  tangled 
skein  of  the  misdeeds  of  the  international  financier — 
the  Stretton  Street  Affair. 


University  of  California 

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